English
WhenhewentintoSonia’sroom,itwasalreadygettingdark.
AlldaySoniahadbeenwaitingforhiminterribleanxiety.Douniahadbeenwaitingwithher.
Shehadcometoherthatmorning,rememberingSvidrigailov’swordsthatSoniaknew.
Wewillnotdescribetheconversationandtearsofthetwogirls,andhowfriendlytheybecame.
Douniagainedonecomfortatleastfromthatinterview,thatherbrotherwouldnotbealone.
Hehadgonetoher,Sonia,firstwithhisconfession;hehadgonetoherforhumanfellowshipwhenheneededit;shewouldgowithhimwhereverfatemightsendhim.
Douniadidnotask,butsheknewitwasso.
ShelookedatSoniaalmostwithreverenceandatfirstalmostembarrassedherbyit.Soniawasalmostonthepointoftears.
Shefeltherself,onthecontrary,hardlyworthytolookatDounia.
Dounia’sgraciousimagewhenshehadbowedtohersoattentivelyandrespectfullyattheirfirstmeetinginRaskolnikov’sroomhadremainedinhermindasoneofthefairestvisionsofherlife.
Douniaatlastbecameimpatientand,leavingSonia,wenttoherbrother’sroomtoawaithimthere;shekeptthinkingthathewouldcometherefirst.
Whenshehadgone,Soniabegantobetorturedbythedreadofhiscommittingsuicide,andDouniatoofearedit.
Buttheyhadspentthedaytryingtopersuadeeachotherthatthatcouldnotbe,andbothwerelessanxiouswhiletheyweretogether.
Assoonastheyparted,eachthoughtofnothingelse.
SoniarememberedhowSvidrigailovhadsaidtoherthedaybeforethatRaskolnikovhadtwoalternatives—Siberiaor…Besidessheknewhisvanity,hisprideandhislackoffaith.
“Isitpossiblethathehasnothingbutcowardiceandfearofdeathtomakehimlive?”shethoughtatlastindespair.
Meanwhilethesunwassetting.Soniawasstandingindejection,lookingintentlyoutofthewindow,butfromitshecouldseenothingbuttheunwhitewashedblankwallofthenexthouse.
Atlastwhenshebegantofeelsureofhisdeath—hewalkedintotheroom.
Shegaveacryofjoy,butlookingcarefullyintohisfacesheturnedpale.
“Yes,”saidRaskolnikov,smiling.“Ihavecomeforyourcross,Sonia.Itwasyoutoldmetogotothecross-roads;whyisityouarefrightenednowit’scometothat?”
Soniagazedathimastonished.Histoneseemedstrangetoher;acoldshiverranoverher,butinamomentsheguessedthatthetoneandthewordswereamask.
Hespoketoherlookingaway,asthoughtoavoidmeetinghereyes.
“Yousee,Sonia,I’vedecidedthatitwillbebetterso.Thereisonefact….
Butit’salongstoryandthere’snoneedtodiscussit.Butdoyouknowwhatangersme?
Itannoysmethatallthosestupidbrutishfaceswillbegapingatmedirectly,pesteringmewiththeirstupidquestions,whichIshallhavetoanswer—they’llpointtheirfingersatme….Tfoo!
YouknowIamnotgoingtoPorfiry,Iamsickofhim.
I’drathergotomyfriend,theExplosiveLieutenant;howIshallsurprisehim,whatasensationIshallmake!
ButImustbecooler;I’vebecometooirritableoflate.
YouknowIwasnearlyshakingmyfistatmysisterjustnow,becausesheturnedtotakealastlookatme.It’sabrutalstatetobein!Ah!whatamIcomingto!Well,wherearethecrosses?”
Heseemedhardlytoknowwhathewasdoing.
Hecouldnotstaystillorconcentratehisattentiononanything;hisideasseemedtogallopafteroneanother,hetalkedincoherently,hishandstrembledslightly.
WithoutawordSoniatookoutofthedrawertwocrosses,oneofcypresswoodandoneofcopper.Shemadethesignofthecrossoverherselfandoverhim,andputthewoodencrossonhisneck.
“It’sthesymbolofmytakingupthecross,”helaughed.
“AsthoughIhadnotsufferedmuchtillnow!
Thewoodencross,thatisthepeasantone;thecopperone,thatisLizaveta’s—youwillwearyourself,showme!Soshehaditon…atthatmoment?
Iremembertwothingslikethesetoo,asilveroneandalittleikon.
Ithrewthembackontheoldwoman’sneck.
Thosewouldbeappropriatenow,really,thosearewhatIoughttoputonnow….
ButIamtalkingnonsenseandforgettingwhatmatters;I’msomehowforgetful….
YouseeIhavecometowarnyou,Sonia,sothatyoumightknow…that’sall—that’sallIcamefor.ButIthoughtIhadmoretosay.Youwantedmetogoyourself.
Well,nowIamgoingtoprisonandyou’llhaveyourwish.Well,whatareyoucryingfor?Youtoo?Don’t.Leaveoff!Oh,howIhateitall!”
Buthisfeelingwasstirred;hisheartached,ashelookedather.“Whyisshegrievingtoo?”hethoughttohimself.“WhatamItoher?Whydoessheweep?
Whyisshelookingafterme,likemymotherorDounia?She’llbemynurse.”
“Crossyourself,sayatleastoneprayer,”Soniabeggedinatimidbrokenvoice.
“Ohcertainly,asmuchasyoulike!Andsincerely,Sonia,sincerely….”
Buthewantedtosaysomethingquitedifferent.
Hecrossedhimselfseveraltimes.Soniatookuphershawlandputitoverherhead.
ItwasthegreendrapdedamesshawlofwhichMarmeladovhadspoken,“thefamilyshawl.”
Raskolnikovthoughtofthatlookingatit,buthedidnotask.
Hebegantofeelhimselfthathewascertainlyforgettingthingsandwasdisgustinglyagitated.Hewasfrightenedatthis.
HewassuddenlystrucktoobythethoughtthatSoniameanttogowithhim.
“Whatareyoudoing?Whereareyougoing?Stayhere,stay!
I’llgoalone,”hecriedincowardlyvexation,andalmostresentful,hemovedtowardsthedoor.
“What’stheuseofgoinginprocession?”hemutteredgoingout.
Soniaremainedstandinginthemiddleoftheroom.Hehadnotevensaidgood-byetoher;hehadforgottenher.Apoignantandrebelliousdoubtsurgedinhisheart.
“Wasitright,wasitright,allthis?”hethoughtagainashewentdownthestairs.“Couldn’thestopandretractitall…andnotgo?”
Butstillhewent.Hefeltsuddenlyonceforallthathemustn’taskhimselfquestions.
Asheturnedintothestreetherememberedthathehadnotsaidgood-byetoSonia,thathehadleftherinthemiddleoftheroominhergreenshawl,notdaringtostirafterhehadshoutedather,andhestoppedshortforamoment.
Atthesameinstant,anotherthoughtdawneduponhim,asthoughithadbeenlyinginwaittostrikehimthen.
“Why,withwhatobjectdidIgotoherjustnow?
Itoldher—onbusiness;onwhatbusiness?Ihadnosortofbusiness!
TotellherIwasgoing;butwherewastheneed?DoIloveher?
No,no,Idroveherawayjustnowlikeadog.DidIwanthercrosses?Oh,howlowI’vesunk!
No,Iwantedhertears,Iwantedtoseeherterror,toseehowherheartached!
Ihadtohavesomethingtoclingto,somethingtodelayme,somefriendlyfacetosee!
AndIdaredtobelieveinmyself,todreamofwhatIwoulddo!
Iamabeggarlycontemptiblewretch,contemptible!”
Hewalkedalongthecanalbank,andhehadnotmuchfurthertogo.ButonreachingthebridgehestoppedandturningoutofhiswayalongitwenttotheHayMarket.
Helookedeagerlytorightandleft,gazedintentlyateveryobjectandcouldnotfixhisattentiononanything;everythingslippedaway.
“Inanotherweek,anothermonthIshallbedriveninaprisonvanoverthisbridge,howshallIlookatthecanalthen?Ishouldliketorememberthis!”slippedintohismind.“Lookatthissign!HowshallIreadthoselettersthen?
It’swrittenhere‘Campany,’that’sathingtoremember,thatlettera,andtolookatitagaininamonth—howshallIlookatitthen?
WhatshallIbefeelingandthinkingthen?
...Howtrivialitallmustbe,whatIamfrettingaboutnow!
Ofcourseitmustallbeinteresting…initsway…(Ha-ha-ha!WhatamIthinkingabout?)
Iambecomingababy,Iamshowingofftomyself;whyamIashamed?Foo!howpeopleshove!
thatfatman—aGermanhemustbe—whopushedagainstme,doesheknowwhomhepushed?
There’sapeasantwomanwithababy,begging.
It’scuriousthatshethinksmehappierthansheis.
Imightgivehersomething,fortheincongruityofit.
Here’safivecopeckpieceleftinmypocket,wheredidIgetit?Here,here…takeit,mygoodwoman!”
“Godblessyou,”thebeggarchantedinalachrymosevoice.
HewentintotheHayMarket.Itwasdistasteful,verydistastefultobeinacrowd,buthewalkedjustwherehesawmostpeople.
Hewouldhavegivenanythingintheworldtobealone;butheknewhimselfthathewouldnothaveremainedaloneforamoment.
Therewasamandrunkanddisorderlyinthecrowd;hekepttryingtodanceandfallingdown.Therewasaringroundhim.
Raskolnikovsqueezedhiswaythroughthecrowd,staredforsomeminutesatthedrunkenmanandsuddenlygaveashortjerkylaugh.
Aminutelaterhehadforgottenhimanddidnotseehim,thoughhestillstared.
Hemovedawayatlast,notrememberingwherehewas;butwhenhegotintothemiddleofthesquareanemotionsuddenlycameoverhim,overwhelminghimbodyandmind.
HesuddenlyrecalledSonia’swords,“Gotothecross-roads,bowdowntothepeople,kisstheearth,foryouhavesinnedagainstittoo,andsayaloudtothewholeworld,‘Iamamurderer.’”Hetrembled,rememberingthat.
Andthehopelessmiseryandanxietyofallthattime,especiallyofthelasthours,hadweighedsoheavilyuponhimthathepositivelyclutchedatthechanceofthisnewunmixed,completesensation.
Itcameoverhimlikeafit;itwaslikeasinglesparkkindledinhissoulandspreadingfirethroughhim.
Everythinginhimsoftenedatonceandthetearsstartedintohiseyes.Hefelltotheearthonthespot….
Hekneltdowninthemiddleofthesquare,boweddowntotheearth,andkissedthatfilthyearthwithblissandrapture.Hegotupandboweddownasecondtime.
“He’sboozed,”ayouthnearhimobserved.
Therewasaroaroflaughter.
“He’sgoingtoJerusalem,brothers,andsayinggood-byetohischildrenandhiscountry.
He’sbowingdowntoalltheworldandkissingthegreatcityofSt.Petersburganditspavement,”addedaworkmanwhowasalittledrunk.
“Quiteayoungman,too!”observedathird.
“Andagentleman,”someoneobservedsoberly.
“There’snoknowingwho’sagentlemanandwhoisn’tnowadays.”
TheseexclamationsandremarkscheckedRaskolnikov,andthewords,“Iamamurderer,”whichwereperhapsonthepointofdroppingfromhislips,diedaway.
Heboretheseremarksquietly,however,and,withoutlookinground,heturneddownastreetleadingtothepoliceoffice.
Hehadaglimpseofsomethingonthewaywhichdidnotsurprisehim;hehadfeltthatitmustbeso.
ThesecondtimeheboweddownintheHayMarkethesaw,standingfiftypacesfromhimontheleft,Sonia.
Shewashidingfromhimbehindoneofthewoodenshantiesinthemarket-place.
Shehadfollowedhimthenonhispainfulway!
RaskolnikovatthatmomentfeltandknewonceforallthatSoniawaswithhimforeverandwouldfollowhimtotheendsoftheearth,whereverfatemighttakehim.
Itwrunghisheart…buthewasjustreachingthefatalplace.
Hewentintotheyardfairlyresolutely.Hehadtomounttothethirdstorey.
“Ishallbesometimegoingup,”hethought.
Hefeltasthoughthefatefulmomentwasstillfaroff,asthoughhehadplentyoftimeleftforconsideration.
Againthesamerubbish,thesameeggshellslyingaboutonthespiralstairs,againtheopendoorsoftheflats,againthesamekitchensandthesamefumesandstenchcomingfromthem.
Raskolnikovhadnotbeenheresincethatday.
Hislegswerenumbandgavewayunderhim,butstilltheymovedforward.
Hestoppedforamomenttotakebreath,tocollecthimself,soastoenterlikeaman.“Butwhy?whatfor?”hewondered,reflecting.
“IfImustdrinkthecupwhatdifferencedoesitmake?Themorerevoltingthebetter.”
Heimaginedforaninstantthefigureofthe“explosivelieutenant,”IlyaPetrovitch.Washeactuallygoingtohim?Couldn’thegotosomeoneelse?ToNikodimFomitch?
Couldn’theturnbackandgostraighttoNikodimFomitch’slodgings?
Atleastthenitwouldbedoneprivately….No,no!Tothe“explosivelieutenant”!
Ifhemustdrinkit,drinkitoffatonce.
Turningcoldandhardlyconscious,heopenedthedooroftheoffice.
Therewereveryfewpeopleinitthistime—onlyahouseporterandapeasant.
Thedoorkeeperdidnotevenpeepoutfrombehindhisscreen.Raskolnikovwalkedintothenextroom.
“PerhapsIstillneednotspeak,”passedthroughhismind.
Somesortofclerknotwearingauniformwassettlinghimselfatabureautowrite.
Inacorneranotherclerkwasseatinghimself.
Zametovwasnotthere,nor,ofcourse,NikodimFomitch.
“Noonein?”Raskolnikovasked,addressingthepersonatthebureau.
“Whomdoyouwant?”
“A-ah!Notasoundwasheard,notasightwasseen,butIscenttheRussian…howdoesitgooninthefairytale…I’veforgotten!‘Atyourservice!’”afamiliarvoicecriedsuddenly.
Raskolnikovshuddered.TheExplosiveLieutenantstoodbeforehim.Hehadjustcomeinfromthethirdroom.“Itisthehandoffate,”thoughtRaskolnikov.“Whyishehere?”
“You’vecometoseeus?Whatabout?”criedIlyaPetrovitch.
Hewasobviouslyinanexceedinglygoodhumourandperhapsatrifleexhilarated.
“Ifit’sonbusinessyouareratherearly.
[]It’sonlyachancethatIamhere…howeverI’lldowhatIcan.
Imustadmit,I…whatisit,whatisit?Excuseme….”
[*]Dostoevskyappearstohaveforgottenthatitisaftersunset,
andthatthelasttimeRaskolnikovvisitedthepoliceoffice
attwointheafternoonhewasreproachedforcomingtoolate.
TRANSLATOR.
“Raskolnikov.”
“Ofcourse,Raskolnikov.Youdidn’timagineI’dforgotten?Don’tthinkIamlikethat…RodionRo—Ro—Rodionovitch,that’sit,isn’tit?”
“RodionRomanovitch.”
“Yes,yes,ofcourse,RodionRomanovitch!Iwasjustgettingatit.Imademanyinquiriesaboutyou.
IassureyouI’vebeengenuinelygrievedsincethat…sinceIbehavedlikethat…itwasexplainedtomeafterwardsthatyouwerealiteraryman…andalearnedonetoo…andsotosaythefirststeps…Mercyonus!
Whatliteraryorscientificmandoesnotbeginbysomeoriginalityofconduct!
MywifeandIhavethegreatestrespectforliterature,inmywifeit’sagenuinepassion!Literatureandart!
Ifonlyamanisagentleman,alltherestcanbegainedbytalents,learning,goodsense,genius.
Asforahat—well,whatdoesahatmatter?
IcanbuyahataseasilyasIcanabun;butwhat’sunderthehat,whatthehatcovers,Ican’tbuythat!
Iwasevenmeaningtocomeandapologisetoyou,butthoughtmaybeyou’d…ButIamforgettingtoaskyou,isthereanythingyouwantreally?Ihearyourfamilyhavecome?”
“Yes,mymotherandsister.”
“I’veevenhadthehonourandhappinessofmeetingyoursister—ahighlycultivatedandcharmingperson.
IconfessIwassorryIgotsohotwithyou.Thereitis!
Butasformylookingsuspiciouslyatyourfaintingfit—thataffairhasbeenclearedupsplendidly!Bigotryandfanaticism!Iunderstandyourindignation.
Perhapsyouarechangingyourlodgingonaccountofyourfamily’sarriving?”
“No,Ionlylookedin…Icametoask…IthoughtthatIshouldfindZametovhere.”
“Oh,yes!Ofcourse,you’vemadefriends,Iheard.Well,no,Zametovisnothere.Yes,we’velostZametov.
He’snotbeenheresinceyesterday…hequarrelledwitheveryoneonleaving…intherudestway.
Heisafeather-headedyoungster,that’sall;onemighthaveexpectedsomethingfromhim,butthere,youknowwhattheyare,ourbrilliantyoungmen.
Hewantedtogoinforsomeexamination,butit’sonlytotalkandboastaboutit,itwillgonofurtherthanthat.
Ofcourseit’saverydifferentmatterwithyouorMr.Razumihinthere,yourfriend.
Yourcareerisanintellectualoneandyouwon’tbedeterredbyfailure.
Foryou,onemaysay,alltheattractionsoflifenihilest—youareanascetic,amonk,ahermit!
...Abook,apenbehindyourear,alearnedresearch—that’swhereyourspiritsoars!Iamthesamewaymyself….HaveyoureadLivingstone’sTravels?”
“No.”
“Oh,Ihave.ThereareagreatmanyNihilistsaboutnowadays,youknow,andindeeditisnottobewonderedat.Whatsortofdaysarethey?Iaskyou.
Butwethought…youarenotaNihilistofcourse?Answermeopenly,openly!”
“N-no…”
“Believeme,youcanspeakopenlytomeasyouwouldtoyourself!
Officialdutyisonethingbut…youarethinkingImeanttosayfriendshipisquiteanother?No,you’rewrong!
It’snotfriendship,butthefeelingofamanandacitizen,thefeelingofhumanityandoflovefortheAlmighty.
Imaybeanofficial,butIamalwaysboundtofeelmyselfamanandacitizen….YouwereaskingaboutZametov.
ZametovwillmakeascandalintheFrenchstyleinahouseofbadreputation,overaglassofchampagne…that’sallyourZametovisgoodfor!
WhileI’mperhaps,sotospeak,burningwithdevotionandloftyfeelings,andbesidesIhaverank,consequence,apost!
Iammarriedandhavechildren,Ifulfilthedutiesofamanandacitizen,butwhoishe,mayIask?
Iappealtoyouasamanennobledbyeducation…Thenthesemidwives,too,havebecomeextraordinarilynumerous.”
Raskolnikovraisedhiseyebrowsinquiringly.
ThewordsofIlyaPetrovitch,whohadobviouslybeendining,wereforthemostpartastreamofemptysoundsforhim.Butsomeofthemheunderstood.
Helookedathiminquiringly,notknowinghowitwouldend.
“Imeanthosecrop-headedwenches,”thetalkativeIlyaPetrovitchcontinued.“Midwivesismynameforthem.
Ithinkitaverysatisfactoryone,ha-ha!TheygototheAcademy,studyanatomy.
IfIfallill,amItosendforayoungladytotreatme?Whatdoyousay?Ha-ha!”
IlyaPetrovitchlaughed,quitepleasedwithhisownwit.
“It’sanimmoderatezealforeducation,butonceyou’reeducated,that’senough.Whyabuseit?
Whyinsulthonourablepeople,asthatscoundrelZametovdoes?Whydidheinsultme,Iaskyou?
Lookatthesesuicides,too,howcommontheyare,youcan’tfancy!
Peoplespendtheirlasthalfpennyandkillthemselves,boysandgirlsandoldpeople.
Onlythismorningweheardaboutagentlemanwhohadjustcometotown.
NilPavlitch,Isay,whatwasthenameofthatgentlemanwhoshothimself?”
“Svidrigailov,”someoneansweredfromtheotherroomwithdrowsylistlessness.
Raskolnikovstarted.
“Svidrigailov!Svidrigailovhasshothimself!”hecried.
“What,doyouknowSvidrigailov?”
“Yes…Iknewhim….Hehadn’tbeenherelong.”
“Yes,that’sso.Hehadlosthiswife,wasamanofrecklesshabitsandallofasuddenshothimself,andinsuchashockingway….
Heleftinhisnotebookafewwords:thathediesinfullpossessionofhisfacultiesandthatnooneistoblameforhisdeath.Hehadmoney,theysay.Howdidyoucometoknowhim?”
“I…wasacquainted…mysisterwasgovernessinhisfamily.”
“Bah-bah-bah!Thennodoubtyoucantellussomethingabouthim.Youhadnosuspicion?”
“Isawhimyesterday…he…wasdrinkingwine;Iknewnothing.”
Raskolnikovfeltasthoughsomethinghadfallenonhimandwasstiflinghim.
“You’veturnedpaleagain.It’ssostuffyhere…”
“Yes,Imustgo,”mutteredRaskolnikov.“Excusemytroublingyou….”
“Oh,notatall,asoftenasyoulike.It’sapleasuretoseeyouandIamgladtosayso.”
IlyaPetrovitchheldouthishand.
“Ionlywanted…IcametoseeZametov.”
“Iunderstand,Iunderstand,andit’sapleasuretoseeyou.”
“I…amveryglad…good-bye,”Raskolnikovsmiled.
Hewentout;hereeled,hewasovertakenwithgiddinessanddidnotknowwhathewasdoing.
Hebegangoingdownthestairs,supportinghimselfwithhisrighthandagainstthewall.
Hefanciedthataporterpushedpasthimonhiswayupstairstothepoliceoffice,thatadoginthelowerstoreykeptupashrillbarkingandthatawomanflungarolling-pinatitandshouted.Hewentdownandoutintotheyard.
There,notfarfromtheentrance,stoodSonia,paleandhorror-stricken.Shelookedwildlyathim.Hestoodstillbeforeher.
Therewasalookofpoignantagony,ofdespair,inherface.Sheclaspedherhands.
Hislipsworkedinanugly,meaninglesssmile.
Hestoodstillaminute,grinnedandwentbacktothepoliceoffice.
IlyaPetrovitchhadsatdownandwasrummagingamongsomepapers.Beforehimstoodthesamepeasantwhohadpushedbyonthestairs.
“Hulloa!Backagain!haveyouleftsomethingbehind?What’sthematter?”
Raskolnikov,withwhitelipsandstaringeyes,cameslowlynearer.Hewalkedrighttothetable,leanedhishandonit,triedtosaysomething,butcouldnot;onlyincoherentsoundswereaudible.
“Youarefeelingill,achair!Here,sitdown!Somewater!”
Raskolnikovdroppedontoachair,buthekepthiseyesfixedonthefaceofIlyaPetrovitch,whichexpressedunpleasantsurprise.
Bothlookedatoneanotherforaminuteandwaited.Waterwasbrought.
“ItwasI…”beganRaskolnikov.
“Drinksomewater.”
Raskolnikovrefusedthewaterwithhishand,andsoftlyandbrokenly,butdistinctlysaid:
“ItwasIkilledtheoldpawnbrokerwomanandhersisterLizavetawithanaxeandrobbedthem.”
IlyaPetrovitchopenedhismouth.Peopleranuponallsides.
Raskolnikovrepeatedhisstatement.
Share this article to
FINISH