The door was as opened a crack, and again two and
suspicious at him out of the darkness. Then Raskolnikov lost
his and nearly a great mistake.
Fearing the old woman would be by their being alone, and not
hoping that the of him would her suspicions, he took
hold of the door and it him to prevent the old woman from
attempting to it again. Seeing this she did not the door back,
but she did not let go the so that he almost her out with
it on to the stairs. Seeing that she was in the not
allowing him to pass, he upon her. She back
in alarm, to say something, but unable to speak and stared
with open at him.
“Good evening, Alyona Ivanovna,” he began, trying to speak easily, but
his voice would not him, it and shook. “I have come... I have
brought something... but we’d come in... to the light....”
And her, he passed into the room uninvited. The old
woman ran after him; her was unloosed.
“Good heavens! What it is? Who is it? What do you want?”
“Why, Alyona Ivanovna, you know me... Raskolnikov... here, I you
the I promised the other day...” And he out the pledge.
The old woman for a moment at the pledge, but at once in
the of her visitor. She looked intently, and
mistrustfully. A minute passed; he something like a sneer
in her eyes, as though she had already everything. He that
he was his head, that he was almost frightened, so frightened
that if she were to look like that and not say a word for another half
minute, he he would have away from her.
“Why do you look at me as though you did not know me?” he said suddenly,
also with malice. “Take it if you like, if not I’ll go elsewhere, I am
in a hurry.”
He had not of saying this, but it was said of
itself. The old woman herself, and her visitor’s tone
evidently her confidence.
“But why, my good sir, all of a minute.... What is it?” she asked,
looking at the pledge.
“The cigarette case; I spoke of it last time, you know.”
She out her hand.
“But how you are, to be sure... and your hands are too?
Have you been bathing, or what?”
“Fever,” he answered abruptly. “You can’t help pale... if you’ve
nothing to eat,” he added, with the words.
His was him again. But his answer like the
truth; the old woman took the pledge.
“What is it?” she asked once more, Raskolnikov intently, and
weighing the in her hand.
“A thing... cigarette case.... Silver.... Look at it.”
“It not somehow like silver.... How he has it up!”
Trying to the and to the window, to the light (all
her were shut, in of the heat), she left
him for some and with her to him. He
unbuttoned his and the from the noose, but did not yet
take it out altogether, it in his right hand under the
coat. His hands were weak, he them every moment growing
more and more wooden. He was he would let the and
fall.... A came over him.
“But what has he it up like this for?” the old woman with
vexation and moved him.
He had not a minute more to lose. He the out, swung
it with arms, of himself, and almost without
effort, almost mechanically, the on her head. He
seemed not to use his own in this. But as soon as he had once
brought the down, his returned to him.
The old woman was as always bareheaded. Her thin, light hair, streaked
with grey, with grease, was in a rat’s and
fastened by a which out on the of her neck.
As she was so short, the on the very top of her skull. She
cried out, but very faintly, and all of a on the
floor, her hands to her head. In one hand she still “the
pledge.” Then he her another and another with the side
and on the same spot. The blood as from an glass, the
body back. He back, let it fall, and at once over her
face; she was dead. Her to be starting out of their sockets,
the and the whole were and convulsively.
He the on the ground near the and at once in her
pocket (trying to avoid the body)--the same right-hand pocket
from which she had taken the key on his last visit. He was in full
possession of his faculties, free from or giddiness, but his
hands were still trembling. He that he had been
particularly and careful, trying all the time not to get
smeared with blood.... He out the keys at once, they were all,
as before, in one on a ring. He ran at once into the bedroom
with them. It was a very small room with a whole of images.
Against the other a big bed, very clean and with
a quilt. Against a third was a of
drawers. Strange to say, so soon as he to fit the keys into the
chest, so soon as he their jingling, a passed
over him. He again to give it all up and go
away. But that was only for an instant; it was too late to go back.
He positively at himself, when another idea
occurred to his mind. He that the old woman might be
still alive and might her senses. Leaving the keys in the chest,
he ran to the body, up the and it once more
over the old woman, but did not it down. There was no that
she was dead. Bending and her again more closely, he saw
clearly that the was and in on one side. He
was about to it with his finger, but his hand and indeed
it was without that. Meanwhile there was a perfect of
blood. All at once he noticed a on her neck; he at it, but
the was and did not and besides, it was soaked
with blood. He to it out from the of the dress, but
something it and its coming. In his he raised
the again to cut the from above on the body, but did not
dare, and with difficulty, his hand and the in the blood,
after two minutes’ effort, he cut the and took it off
without the with the axe; he was not mistaken--it was a
purse. On the were two crosses, one of Cyprus and one of
copper, and an image in filigree, and with them a small greasy
chamois leather with a and ring. The was stuffed
very full; Raskolnikov it in his pocket without looking at it,
flung the on the old woman’s and into the
bedroom, this time taking the with him.
He was in terrible haste, he the keys, and trying them
again. But he was unsuccessful. They would not fit in the locks. It
was not so much that his hands were shaking, but that he making
mistakes; though he saw for that a key was not the right one
and would not fit, still he to put it in. Suddenly he remembered
and that the big key with the notches, which was hanging
there with the small keys not possibly to the of
drawers (on his last visit this had him), but to some box,
and that was in that box. He left the chest
of drawers, and at once under the bedstead, that old
women keep boxes under their beds. And so it was; there was a
good-sized box under the bed, at least a in length, with an arched
lid with red leather and with nails. The notched
key at once and it. At the top, under a white sheet, was
a of red with hareskin; under it was a dress,
then a and it as though there was nothing but
clothes. The thing he did was to his blood-stained hands on
the red brocade. “It’s red, and on red blood will be less noticeable,”
the passed through his mind; then he came to himself.
“Good God, am I going out of my senses?” he with terror.
But no sooner did he touch the than a gold watch from
under the coat. He to turn them all over. There turned
out to be articles of gold among the clothes--probably
all pledges, or waiting to be redeemed--bracelets, chains,
ear-rings, and such things. Some were in cases, others simply
wrapped in newspaper, and folded, and with
tape. Without any delay, he up the pockets of his trousers
and overcoat without or the and cases; but he
had not time to take many....
He steps in the room where the old woman lay. He stopped
short and was still as death. But all was quiet, so it must have been
his fancy. All at once he a cry, as though
someone had a low moan. Then again for
a minute or two. He sat on his by the box and waited
holding his breath. Suddenly he jumped up, the and ran out of
the bedroom.
In the middle of the room Lizaveta with a big in her arms.
She was in at her sister, white as a sheet
and not to have the to out. Seeing him out
of the bedroom, she all over, like a leaf, a
shudder ran her face; she her hand, opened her mouth, but
still did not scream. She slowly away from him into the
corner, intently, at him, but still no
sound, as though she not to scream. He at her
with the axe; her mouth piteously, as one sees babies’ mouths,
when they to be frightened, at what them
and are on the point of screaming. And this Lizaveta was so
simple and had been so and that she did not
even a hand to her face, though that was the most necessary
and natural action at the moment, for the was over her face.
She only put up her empty left hand, but not to her face, slowly holding
it out her as though him away. The with the
sharp just on the and at one all the top of the
head. She at once. Raskolnikov his head,
snatching up her bundle, it again and ran into the entry.
Fear more and more over him, after this
second, murder. He to away from the place
as fast as possible. And if at that moment he had been of seeing
and more correctly, if he had been able to all the
difficulties of his position, the hopelessness, the and the
absurdity of it, if he have how many and,
perhaps, he had still to overcome or to commit, to out of
that place and to make his way home, it is very possible that he would
have up everything, and would have gone to give himself up, and
not from fear, but from and of what he had
done. The of up him and grew
stronger every minute. He would not now have gone to the box or even
into the room for anything in the world.
But a of blankness, dreaminess, had by to take
possession of him; at moments he himself, or rather, what
was of importance, and at trifles. Glancing, however, into the
kitchen and a full of water on a bench, he bethought
him of his hands and the axe. His hands were with blood.
He the with the in the water, a piece of soap
that in a on the window, and his hands
in the bucket. When they were clean, he took out the axe, the
blade and a long time, about three minutes, the where
there were of blood them with soap. Then he it all
with some that was to on a line in the and
then he was a long while the at the window.
There was no left on it, only the was still damp. He
carefully the in the under his coat. Then as as was
possible, in the light in the kitchen, he looked over his overcoat,
his and his boots. At the there to be
nothing but on the boots. He the and the boots.
But he he was not looking thoroughly, that there might be something
quite that he was overlooking. He in the middle of the
room, in thought. Dark ideas rose in his mind--the idea
that he was and that at that moment he was of reasoning,
of protecting himself, that he ought to be doing something
utterly different from what he was now doing. “Good God!” he “I
must fly, fly,” and he into the entry. But here a of terror
awaited him such as he had before.
He and and not his eyes: the door, the outer
door from the stairs, at which he had not long waited and rung,
was and at least six open. No lock, no bolt,
all the time, all that time! The old woman had not it after him
perhaps as a precaution. But, good God! Why, he had Lizaveta
afterwards! And how he, how he have failed to that
she must have come in somehow! She not have come through the wall!
He to the door and the latch.
“But no, the thing again! I must away, away....”
He the latch, opened the door and on the
staircase.
He a long time. Somewhere away, it might be in the gateway,
two voices were and shouting, and scolding.
“What are they about?” He waited patiently. At last all was still, as
though cut off; they had separated. He was meaning to go out,
but suddenly, on the below, a door was opened and someone
began going a tune. “How is it they all make such
a noise?” through his mind. Once more he closed the door and
waited. At last all was still, not a stirring. He was just taking a
step the stairs when he fresh footsteps.
The steps very off, at the very of the stairs, but
he and that from the he
began for some to that this was someone _there_,
to the fourth floor, to the old woman. Why? Were the somehow
peculiar, significant? The steps were heavy, and unhurried. Now
_he_ had passed the floor, now he was higher, it was
growing more and more distinct! He his breathing. And
now the third had been reached. Coming here! And it to
him all at once that he was to stone, that it was like a dream
in which one is being pursued, nearly and will be killed, and is
rooted to the spot and cannot move one’s arms.
At last when the unknown was to the fourth floor, he suddenly
started, and succeeded in and into the
flat and the door him. Then he took the and softly,
noiselessly, it in the catch. Instinct helped him. When he had
done this, he his breath, by the door. The unknown
visitor was by now also at the door. They were now opposite one
another, as he had just been with the old woman, when
the door them and he was listening.
The visitor times. “He must be a big, man,” thought
Raskolnikov, the in his hand. It like a dream
indeed. The visitor took of the and it loudly.
As soon as the tinkled, Raskolnikov to be aware of
something moving in the room. For some he quite
seriously. The unknown again, waited and violently
and at the of the door. Raskolnikov in horror
at the in its fastening, and in blank terror every
minute that the would be out. It did seem
possible, so was he it. He was to the
fastening, but _he_ might be aware of it. A came over him
again. “I shall down!” through his mind, but the unknown
began to speak and he himself at once.
“What’s up? Are they asleep or murdered? D-damn them!” he in a
thick voice, “Hey, Alyona Ivanovna, old witch! Lizaveta Ivanovna, hey,
my beauty! open the door! Oh, them! Are they asleep or what?”
And again, enraged, he with all his might a dozen times at
the bell. He must be a man of authority and an intimate
acquaintance.
At this moment light steps were not off, on the
stairs. Someone else was approaching. Raskolnikov had not them at
first.
“You don’t say there’s no one at home,” the new-comer in a
cheerful, voice, the visitor, who still on
pulling the bell. “Good evening, Koch.”
“From his voice he must be young,” Raskolnikov.
“Who the can tell? I’ve almost the lock,” answered Koch.
“But how do you come to know me?”
“Why! The day yesterday I you three times at
billiards at Gambrinus’.”
“Oh!”
“So they are not at home? That’s queer. It’s though.
Where the old woman have gone? I’ve come on business.”
“Yes; and I have with her, too.”
“Well, what can we do? Go back, I suppose, Aie--aie! And I was to
get some money!” the man.
“We must give it up, of course, but what did she this time for? The
old the time for me to come herself. It’s out of my way.
And where the she can have got to, I can’t make out. She here
from year’s end to year’s end, the old hag; her are and yet
here all of a she is out for a walk!”
“Hadn’t we ask the porter?”
“What?”
“Where she’s gone and when she’ll be back.”
“Hm.... Damn it all!... We might ask.... But you know she go
anywhere.”
And he once more at the door-handle.
“Damn it all. There’s nothing to be done, we must go!”
“Stay!” the man suddenly. “Do you see how the door if
you it?”
“Well?”
“That it’s not locked, but with the hook! Do you how
the clanks?”
“Well?”
“Why, don’t you see? That proves that one of them is at home. If they
were all out, they would have locked the door from the with the
key and not with the from inside. There, do you how the hook
is clanking? To the on the they must be at home,
don’t you see. So there they are and don’t open the
door!”
“Well! And so they must be!” Koch, astonished. “What are they
about in there?” And he the door.
“Stay!” the man again. “Don’t at it! There must be
something wrong.... Here, you’ve been and at the door
and still they don’t open! So either they’ve or...”
“What?”
“I tell you what. Let’s go the porter, let him wake them up.”
“All right.”
Both were going down.
“Stay. You stop here while I for the porter.”
“What for?”
“Well, you’d better.”
“All right.”
“I’m studying the law you see! It’s evident, e-vi-dent there’s something
wrong here!” the man hotly, and he ran downstairs.
Koch remained. Once more he touched the which gave one
tinkle, then gently, as though and looking about him, began
touching the door-handle it and it go to make sure once
more that it was only by the hook. Then and he
bent and looking at the keyhole: but the key was in the lock
on the and so nothing be seen.
Raskolnikov tight of the axe. He was in a of
delirium. He was making to when they should come in.
While they were and talking together, the idea times
occurred to him to end it all at once and to them through the
door. Now and then he was to at them, to at them,
while they not open the door! “Only make haste!” was the thought
that through his mind.
“But what the is he about?...” Time was passing, one minute, and
another--no one came. Koch to be restless.
“What the devil?” he and in his
sentry duty, he, too, down, and with his heavy
boots on the stairs. The steps died away.
“Good heavens! What am I to do?”
Raskolnikov the hook, opened the door--there was no sound.
Abruptly, without any at all, he out, the door as
thoroughly as he could, and downstairs.
He had gone three when he a loud voice
below--where he go! There was to hide. He was just going
back to the flat.
“Hey there! Catch the brute!”
Somebody out of a below, shouting, and than ran
down the stairs, at the top of his voice.
“Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Mitka! Blast him!”
The ended in a shriek; the last came from the yard; all was
still. But at the same men talking loud and fast began
noisily the stairs. There were three or four of them. He
distinguished the voice of the man. “Hey!”
Filled with he to meet them, “come what
must!” If they stopped him--all was lost; if they let him pass--all was
lost too; they would him. They were approaching; they were only
a from him--and deliverance! A steps from him on the
right, there was an empty with the door wide open, the on the
second where the had been at work, and which, as though
for his benefit, they had just left. It was they, no doubt, who had just
run down, shouting. The had only just been painted, in the middle
of the room a and a pot with paint and brushes. In one
instant he had in at the open door and the wall
and only in the of time; they had already the landing.
Then they and on up to the fourth floor, talking loudly. He
waited, out on and ran the stairs.
No one was on the stairs, in the gateway. He passed through
the and to the left in the street.
He knew, he perfectly well that at that moment they were at the
flat, that they were at it unlocked, as
the door had just been fastened, that by now they were looking at the
bodies, that another minute had passed they would and
completely that the had just been there, and had
succeeded in somewhere, by them and escaping. They would
guess most likely that he had been in the empty flat, while they were
going upstairs. And meanwhile he not his much, though
the next was still nearly a hundred yards away. “Should he
slip through some and wait in an unknown street? No,
hopeless! Should he away the axe? Should he take a cab? Hopeless,
hopeless!”
At last he the turning. He it more than alive.
Here he was way to safety, and he it; it was less risky
because there was a great of people, and he was in it like a
grain of sand. But all he had had so him that he could
scarcely move. Perspiration ran him in drops, his was all wet.
“My word, he has been going it!” someone at him when he came out
on the bank.
He was only of himself now, and the he the
worse it was. He however, that on out on to the canal
bank, he was at people there and so being more
conspicuous, and he had of back. Though he was almost
falling from fatigue, he a long way so as to home from
quite a different direction.
He was not when he passed through the of his
house! He was already on the he the axe.
And yet he had a very problem him, to put it and to
escape as as possible in doing so. He was of course
incapable of that it might be not to
restore the at all, but to it later on in somebody’s yard. But
it all fortunately, the door of the porter’s room was closed
but not locked, so that it most likely that the was at
home. But he had so all power of that he
walked to the door and opened it. If the had asked him,
“What do you want?” he would have him the axe. But
again the was not at home, and he succeeded in the axe
back under the bench, and it with the of as
before. He met no one, not a soul, on the way to his room;
the landlady’s door was shut. When he was in his room, he himself
on the sofa just as he was--he did not sleep, but into blank
forgetfulness. If anyone had come into his room then, he would have
jumped up at once and screamed. Scraps and of were
simply in his brain, but he not catch at one, he could
not on one, in of all his efforts....
PART II
