English
Thesameday,aboutseveno’clockintheevening,Raskolnikovwasonhiswaytohismother’sandsister’slodging—thelodginginBakaleyev’shousewhichRazumihinhadfoundforthem.Thestairswentupfromthestreet.
Raskolnikovwalkedwithlaggingsteps,asthoughstillhesitatingwhethertogoornot.
Butnothingwouldhaveturnedhimback:hisdecisionwastaken.
“Besides,itdoesn’tmatter,theystillknownothing,”hethought,“andtheyareusedtothinkingofmeaseccentric.”
Hewasappallinglydressed:hisclothestornanddirty,soakedwithanight’srain.
Hisfacewasalmostdistortedfromfatigue,exposure,theinwardconflictthathadlastedfortwenty-fourhours.
Hehadspentallthepreviousnightalone,Godknowswhere.Butanywayhehadreachedadecision.
Heknockedatthedoorwhichwasopenedbyhismother.Douniawasnotathome.Eventheservanthappenedtobeout.
AtfirstPulcheriaAlexandrovnawasspeechlesswithjoyandsurprise;thenshetookhimbythehandanddrewhimintotheroom.
“Hereyouare!”shebegan,falteringwithjoy.
“Don’tbeangrywithme,Rodya,forwelcomingyousofoolishlywithtears:Iamlaughingnotcrying.DidyouthinkIwascrying?
No,Iamdelighted,butI’vegotintosuchastupidhabitofsheddingtears.
I’vebeenlikethateversinceyourfather’sdeath.Icryforanything.
Sitdown,dearboy,youmustbetired;Iseeyouare.Ah,howmuddyyouare.”
“Iwasintherainyesterday,mother….”Raskolnikovbegan.
“No,no,”PulcheriaAlexandrovnahurriedlyinterrupted,“youthoughtIwasgoingtocross-questionyouinthewomanishwayIusedto;don’tbeanxious,Iunderstand,Iunderstanditall:nowI’velearnedthewayshereandtrulyIseeformyselfthattheyarebetter.
I’vemadeupmymindonceforall:howcouldIunderstandyourplansandexpectyoutogiveanaccountofthem?
Godknowswhatconcernsandplansyoumayhave,orwhatideasyouarehatching;soit’snotformetokeepnudgingyourelbow,askingyouwhatyouarethinkingabout?But,mygoodness!
whyamIrunningtoandfroasthoughIwerecrazy…?
Iamreadingyourarticleinthemagazineforthethirdtime,Rodya.DmitriProkofitchbroughtittome.
DirectlyIsawitIcriedouttomyself:‘There,foolishone,’Ithought,‘that’swhatheisbusyabout;that’sthesolutionofthemystery!Learnedpeoplearealwayslikethat.
Hemayhavesomenewideasinhisheadjustnow;heisthinkingthemoverandIworryhimandupsethim.’
Ireadit,mydear,andofcoursetherewasagreatdealIdidnotunderstand;butthat’sonlynatural—howshouldI?”
“Showme,mother.”
Raskolnikovtookthemagazineandglancedathisarticle.
Incongruousasitwaswithhismoodandhiscircumstances,hefeltthatstrangeandbittersweetsensationthateveryauthorexperiencesthefirsttimeheseeshimselfinprint;besides,hewasonlytwenty-three.Itlastedonlyamoment.
Afterreadingafewlineshefrownedandhisheartthrobbedwithanguish.
Herecalledalltheinwardconflictoftheprecedingmonths.
Heflungthearticleonthetablewithdisgustandanger.
“But,howeverfoolishImaybe,Rodya,Icanseeformyselfthatyouwillverysoonbeoneoftheleading—ifnottheleadingman—intheworldofRussianthought.Andtheydaredtothinkyouweremad!
Youdon’tknow,buttheyreallythoughtthat.
Ah,thedespicablecreatures,howcouldtheyunderstandgenius!
AndDounia,Douniawasallbutbelievingit—whatdoyousaytothat?
Yourfathersenttwicetomagazines—thefirsttimepoems(I’vegotthemanuscriptandwillshowyou)andthesecondtimeawholenovel(Ibeggedhimtoletmecopyitout)andhowweprayedthattheyshouldbetaken—theyweren’t!
Iwasbreakingmyheart,Rodya,sixorsevendaysagooveryourfoodandyourclothesandthewayyouareliving.
ButnowIseeagainhowfoolishIwas,foryoucanattainanypositionyoulikebyyourintellectandtalent.
Nodoubtyoudon’tcareaboutthatforthepresentandyouareoccupiedwithmuchmoreimportantmatters….”
“Dounia’snotathome,mother?”
“No,Rodya.Ioftendon’tseeher;sheleavesmealone.
DmitriProkofitchcomestoseeme,it’ssogoodofhim,andhealwaystalksaboutyou.Helovesyouandrespectsyou,mydear.
Idon’tsaythatDouniaisverywantinginconsideration.Iamnotcomplaining.
ShehasherwaysandIhavemine;sheseemstohavegotsomesecretsoflateandIneverhaveanysecretsfromyoutwo.
Ofcourse,IamsurethatDouniahasfartoomuchsense,andbesidesshelovesyouandme…butIdon’tknowwhatitwillallleadto.
You’vemademesohappybycomingnow,Rodya,butshehasmissedyoubygoingout;whenshecomesinI’lltellher:‘Yourbrothercameinwhileyouwereout.Wherehaveyoubeenallthistime?’
Youmustn’tspoilme,Rodya,youknow;comewhenyoucan,butifyoucan’t,itdoesn’tmatter,Icanwait.
Ishallknow,anyway,thatyouarefondofme,thatwillbeenoughforme.
Ishallreadwhatyouwrite,Ishallhearaboutyoufromeveryone,andsometimesyou’llcomeyourselftoseeme.Whatcouldbebetter?
Hereyou’vecomenowtocomfortyourmother,Iseethat.”
HerePulcheriaAlexandrovnabegantocry.
“HereIamagain!Don’tmindmyfoolishness.Mygoodness,whyamIsittinghere?”shecried,jumpingup.
“ThereiscoffeeandIdon’tofferyouany.Ah,that’stheselfishnessofoldage.I’llgetitatonce!”
“Mother,don’ttrouble,Iamgoingatonce.Ihaven’tcomeforthat.Pleaselistentome.”
PulcheriaAlexandrovnawentuptohimtimidly.
“Mother,whateverhappens,whateveryouhearaboutme,whateveryouaretoldaboutme,willyoualwayslovemeasyoudonow?”
heaskedsuddenlyfromthefullnessofhisheart,asthoughnotthinkingofhiswordsandnotweighingthem.
“Rodya,Rodya,whatisthematter?Howcanyouaskmesuchaquestion?Why,whowilltellmeanythingaboutyou?Besides,Ishouldn’tbelieveanyone,Ishouldrefusetolisten.”
“I’vecometoassureyouthatI’vealwayslovedyouandIamgladthatwearealone,evengladDouniaisout,”hewentonwiththesameimpulse.
“Ihavecometotellyouthatthoughyouwillbeunhappy,youmustbelievethatyoursonlovesyounowmorethanhimself,andthatallyouthoughtaboutme,thatIwascruelanddidn’tcareaboutyou,wasallamistake.Ishallneverceasetoloveyou….
Well,that’senough:IthoughtImustdothisandbeginwiththis….”
PulcheriaAlexandrovnaembracedhiminsilence,pressinghimtoherbosomandweepinggently.
“Idon’tknowwhatiswrongwithyou,Rodya,”shesaidatlast.
“I’vebeenthinkingallthistimethatweweresimplyboringyouandnowIseethatthereisagreatsorrowinstoreforyou,andthat’swhyyouaremiserable.I’veforeseenitalongtime,Rodya.Forgivemeforspeakingaboutit.
Ikeepthinkingaboutitandlieawakeatnights.
Yoursisterlaytalkinginhersleepalllastnight,talkingofnothingbutyou.
Icaughtsomething,butIcouldn’tmakeitout.
IfeltallthemorningasthoughIweregoingtobehanged,waitingforsomething,expectingsomething,andnowithascome!Rodya,Rodya,whereareyougoing?Youaregoingawaysomewhere?”
“Yes.”
“That’swhatIthought!Icancomewithyou,youknow,ifyouneedme.
AndDounia,too;shelovesyou,shelovesyoudearly—andSofyaSemyonovnamaycomewithusifyoulike.
Yousee,Iamgladtolookuponherasadaughtereven…DmitriProkofitchwillhelpustogotogether.But…where…areyougoing?”
“Good-bye,mother.”
“What,to-day?”shecried,asthoughlosinghimforever.
“Ican’tstay,Imustgonow….”
“Andcan’tIcomewithyou?”
“No,butkneeldownandpraytoGodforme.YourprayerperhapswillreachHim.”
“Letmeblessyouandsignyouwiththecross.That’sright,that’sright.Oh,God,whatarewedoing?”
Yes,hewasglad,hewasverygladthattherewasnoonethere,thathewasalonewithhismother.
Forthefirsttimeafterallthoseawfulmonthshisheartwassoftened.
Hefelldownbeforeher,hekissedherfeetandbothwept,embracing.
Andshewasnotsurprisedanddidnotquestionhimthistime.
Forsomedaysshehadrealisedthatsomethingawfulwashappeningtohersonandthatnowsometerribleminutehadcomeforhim.
“Rodya,mydarling,myfirstborn,”shesaidsobbing,“nowyouarejustaswhenyouwerelittle.
Youwouldrunlikethistomeandhugmeandkissme.
Whenyourfatherwaslivingandwewerepoor,youcomfortedussimplybybeingwithusandwhenIburiedyourfather,howoftenwewepttogetherathisgraveandembraced,asnow.
AndifI’vebeencryinglately,it’sthatmymother’shearthadaforebodingoftrouble.
ThefirsttimeIsawyou,thatevening,youremember,assoonaswearrivedhere,Iguessedsimplyfromyoureyes.
Myheartsankatonce,andto-daywhenIopenedthedoorandlookedatyou,Ithoughtthefatalhourhadcome.
Rodya,Rodya,youarenotgoingawayto-day?”
“No!”
“You’llcomeagain?”
“Yes…I’llcome.”
“Rodya,don’tbeangry,Idon’tdaretoquestionyou.IknowImustn’t.Onlysaytwowordstome—isitfarwhereyouaregoing?”
“Veryfar.”
“Whatisawaitingyouthere?Somepostorcareerforyou?”
“WhatGodsends…onlyprayforme.”Raskolnikovwenttothedoor,butsheclutchedhimandgazeddespairinglyintohiseyes.Herfaceworkedwithterror.
“Enough,mother,”saidRaskolnikov,deeplyregrettingthathehadcome.
“Notforever,it’snotyetforever?You’llcome,you’llcometo-morrow?”
“Iwill,Iwill,good-bye.”Hetorehimselfawayatlast.
Itwasawarm,fresh,brightevening;ithadclearedupinthemorning.
Raskolnikovwenttohislodgings;hemadehaste.Hewantedtofinishallbeforesunset.
Hedidnotwanttomeetanyonetillthen.
GoingupthestairshenoticedthatNastasyarushedfromthesamovartowatchhimintently.“Cananyonehavecometoseeme?”hewondered.HehadadisgustedvisionofPorfiry.ButopeninghisdoorhesawDounia.
Shewassittingalone,plungedindeepthought,andlookedasthoughshehadbeenwaitingalongtime.Hestoppedshortinthedoorway.
Sherosefromthesofaindismayandstoodupfacinghim.
Hereyes,fixeduponhim,betrayedhorrorandinfinitegrief.
Andfromthoseeyesalonehesawatoncethatsheknew.
“AmItocomeinorgoaway?”heaskeduncertainly.
“I’vebeenalldaywithSofyaSemyonovna.Wewerebothwaitingforyou.Wethoughtthatyouwouldbesuretocomethere.”
Raskolnikovwentintotheroomandsankexhaustedonachair.
“Ifeelweak,Dounia,Iamverytired;andIshouldhavelikedatthismomenttobeabletocontrolmyself.”
Heglancedathermistrustfully.
“Wherewereyouallnight?”
“Idon’trememberclearly.Yousee,sister,Iwantedtomakeupmymindonceforall,andseveraltimesIwalkedbytheNeva,IrememberthatIwantedtoenditallthere,but…Icouldn’tmakeupmymind,”hewhispered,lookingathermistrustfullyagain.
“ThankGod!Thatwasjustwhatwewereafraidof,SofyaSemyonovnaandI.Thenyoustillhavefaithinlife?ThankGod,thankGod!”
Raskolnikovsmiledbitterly.
“Ihaven’tfaith,butIhavejustbeenweepinginmother’sarms;Ihaven’tfaith,butIhavejustaskedhertoprayforme.Idon’tknowhowitis,Dounia,Idon’tunderstandit.”
“Haveyoubeenatmother’s?Haveyoutoldher?”criedDounia,horror-stricken.“Surelyyouhaven’tdonethat?”
“No,Ididn’ttellher…inwords;butsheunderstoodagreatdeal.Sheheardyoutalkinginyoursleep.
Iamsureshehalfunderstandsitalready.
PerhapsIdidwrongingoingtoseeher.Idon’tknowwhyIdidgo.Iamacontemptibleperson,Dounia.”
“Acontemptibleperson,butreadytofacesuffering!Youare,aren’tyou?”
“Yes,Iamgoing.Atonce.
Yes,toescapethedisgraceIthoughtofdrowningmyself,Dounia,butasIlookedintothewater,IthoughtthatifIhadconsideredmyselfstrongtillnowI’dbetternotbeafraidofdisgrace,”hesaid,hurryingon.“It’spride,Dounia.”
“Pride,Rodya.”
Therewasagleamoffireinhislustrelesseyes;heseemedtobegladtothinkthathewasstillproud.
“Youdon’tthink,sister,thatIwassimplyafraidofthewater?”heasked,lookingintoherfacewithasinistersmile.
“Oh,Rodya,hush!”criedDouniabitterly.Silencelastedfortwominutes.
Hesatwithhiseyesfixedonthefloor;Douniastoodattheotherendofthetableandlookedathimwithanguish.Suddenlyhegotup.
“It’slate,it’stimetogo!Iamgoingatoncetogivemyselfup.ButIdon’tknowwhyIamgoingtogivemyselfup.”
Bigtearsfelldownhercheeks.
“Youarecrying,sister,butcanyouholdoutyourhandtome?”
“Youdoubtedit?”
Shethrewherarmsroundhim.
“Aren’tyouhalfexpiatingyourcrimebyfacingthesuffering?”shecried,holdinghimcloseandkissinghim.
“Crime?Whatcrime?”hecriedinsuddenfury.
“ThatIkilledavilenoxiousinsect,anoldpawnbrokerwoman,ofusetonoone!
...Killingherwasatonementforfortysins.
Shewassuckingthelifeoutofpoorpeople.Wasthatacrime?
IamnotthinkingofitandIamnotthinkingofexpiatingit,andwhyareyouallrubbingitinonallsides?‘Acrime!acrime!’
OnlynowIseeclearlytheimbecilityofmycowardice,nowthatIhavedecidedtofacethissuperfluousdisgrace.
It’ssimplybecauseIamcontemptibleandhavenothinginmethatIhavedecidedto,perhapstooformyadvantage,asthat…Porfiry…suggested!”
“Brother,brother,whatareyousaying?Why,youhaveshedblood?”criedDouniaindespair.
“Whichallmenshed,”heputinalmostfrantically,“whichflowsandhasalwaysflowedinstreams,whichisspiltlikechampagne,andforwhichmenarecrownedintheCapitolandarecalledafterwardsbenefactorsofmankind.
Lookintoitmorecarefullyandunderstandit!
Itoowantedtodogoodtomenandwouldhavedonehundreds,thousandsofgooddeedstomakeupforthatonepieceofstupidity,notstupidityeven,simplyclumsiness,fortheideawasbynomeanssostupidasitseemsnowthatithasfailed….
(Everythingseemsstupidwhenitfails.)
BythatstupidityIonlywantedtoputmyselfintoanindependentposition,totakethefirststep,toobtainmeans,andtheneverythingwouldhavebeensmoothedoverbybenefitsimmeasurableincomparison….
ButI…Icouldn’tcarryouteventhefirststep,becauseIamcontemptible,that’swhat’sthematter!AndyetIwon’tlookatitasyoudo.
IfIhadsucceededIshouldhavebeencrownedwithglory,butnowI’mtrapped.”
“Butthat’snotso,notso!Brother,whatareyousaying?”
“Ah,it’snotpicturesque,notaestheticallyattractive!
Ifailtounderstandwhybombardingpeoplebyregularsiegeismorehonourable.
Thefearofappearancesisthefirstsymptomofimpotence.
I’venever,neverrecognisedthismoreclearlythannow,andIamfurtherthaneverfromseeingthatwhatIdidwasacrime.
I’venever,neverbeenstrongerandmoreconvincedthannow.”
Thecolourhadrushedintohispaleexhaustedface,butasheutteredhislastexplanation,hehappenedtomeetDounia’seyesandhesawsuchanguishinthemthathecouldnothelpbeingchecked.
Hefeltthathehad,anyway,madethesetwopoorwomenmiserable,thathewas,anyway,thecause…
“Douniadarling,ifIamguiltyforgiveme(thoughIcannotbeforgivenifIamguilty).Good-bye!Wewon’tdispute.It’stime,hightimetogo.
Don’tfollowme,Ibeseechyou,Ihavesomewhereelsetogo….Butyougoatonceandsitwithmother.Ientreatyouto!It’smylastrequestofyou.
Don’tleaveheratall;Ileftherinastateofanxiety,thatsheisnotfittobear;shewilldieorgooutofhermind.Bewithher!Razumihinwillbewithyou.I’vebeentalkingtohim….
Don’tcryaboutme:I’lltrytobehonestandmanlyallmylife,evenifIamamurderer.PerhapsIshallsomedaymakeaname.
Iwon’tdisgraceyou,youwillsee;I’llstillshow….
Nowgood-byeforthepresent,”heconcludedhurriedly,noticingagainastrangeexpressioninDounia’seyesathislastwordsandpromises.“Whyareyoucrying?
Don’tcry,don’tcry:wearenotpartingforever!Ah,yes!Waitaminute,I’dforgotten!”
Hewenttothetable,tookupathickdustybook,openeditandtookfrombetweenthepagesalittlewater-colourportraitonivory.
Itwastheportraitofhislandlady’sdaughter,whohaddiedoffever,thatstrangegirlwhohadwantedtobeanun.
Foraminutehegazedatthedelicateexpressivefaceofhisbetrothed,kissedtheportraitandgaveittoDounia.
“Iusedtotalkagreatdealaboutittoher,onlytoher,”hesaidthoughtfully.
“ToherheartIconfidedmuchofwhathassincebeensohideouslyrealised.
Don’tbeuneasy,”hereturnedtoDounia,“shewasasmuchopposedtoitasyou,andIamgladthatsheisgone.
Thegreatpointisthateverythingnowisgoingtobedifferent,isgoingtobebrokenintwo,”hecried,suddenlyreturningtohisdejection.
“Everything,everything,andamIpreparedforit?DoIwantitmyself?
Theysayitisnecessaryformetosuffer!
What’stheobjectofthesesenselesssufferings?
shallIknowanybetterwhattheyarefor,whenIamcrushedbyhardshipsandidiocy,andweakasanoldmanaftertwentyyears’penalservitude?AndwhatshallIhavetoliveforthen?WhyamIconsentingtothatlifenow?
Oh,IknewIwascontemptiblewhenIstoodlookingattheNevaatdaybreakto-day!”
Atlasttheybothwentout.ItwashardforDounia,butshelovedhim.
Shewalkedaway,butaftergoingfiftypacessheturnedroundtolookathimagain.Hewasstillinsight.
Atthecornerhetooturnedandforthelasttimetheireyesmet;butnoticingthatshewaslookingathim,hemotionedherawaywithimpatienceandevenvexation,andturnedthecornerabruptly.
“Iamwicked,Iseethat,”hethoughttohimself,feelingashamedamomentlaterofhisangrygesturetoDounia.
“ButwhyaretheysofondofmeifIdon’tdeserveit?
Oh,ifonlyIwerealoneandnoonelovedmeandItoohadneverlovedanyone!
_Nothingofallthiswouldhavehappened.
_ButIwondershallIinthosefifteenortwentyyearsgrowsomeekthatIshallhumblemyselfbeforepeopleandwhimperateverywordthatIamacriminal?
Yes,that’sit,that’sit,that’swhattheyaresendingmetherefor,that’swhattheywant.
Lookatthemrunningtoandfroaboutthestreets,everyoneofthemascoundrelandacriminalatheartand,worsestill,anidiot.
Buttrytogetmeoffandthey’dbewildwithrighteousindignation.Oh,howIhatethemall!”
Hefelltomusingbywhatprocessitcouldcometopass,thathecouldbehumbledbeforeallofthem,indiscriminately—humbledbyconviction.Andyetwhynot?Itmustbeso.
Wouldnottwentyyearsofcontinualbondagecrushhimutterly?Waterwearsoutastone.Andwhy,whyshouldheliveafterthat?
Whyshouldhegonowwhenheknewthatitwouldbeso?
Itwasthehundredthtimeperhapsthathehadaskedhimselfthatquestionsincethepreviousevening,butstillhewent.
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