He was not unconscious, however, all the time he was ill; he
was in a state, sometimes delirious, sometimes conscious.
He a great afterwards. Sometimes it as though
there were a number of people him; they wanted to take him away
somewhere, there was a great of and about
him. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all gone away afraid
of him, and only now and then opened the door a to look at him;
they him, plotted something together, laughed, and mocked
at him. He Nastasya often at his bedside; he distinguished
another person, too, he to know very well, though he could
not who he was, and this him, him cry.
Sometimes he he had been there a month; at other times
it all part of the same day. But of _that_--of _that_ he had
no recollection, and yet every minute he that he had forgotten
something he ought to remember. He and himself trying
to remember, moaned, into a rage, or into awful, intolerable
terror. Then he to up, would have away, but someone
always him by force, and he into and
forgetfulness. At last he returned to complete consciousness.
It at ten o’clock in the morning. On days the sun shone
into the room at that hour, a of light on the right
wall and the near the door. Nastasya was him
with another person, a complete stranger, who was looking at him
very inquisitively. He was a man with a beard, a full,
short-waisted coat, and looked like a messenger. The was
peeping in at the half-opened door. Raskolnikov sat up.
“Who is this, Nastasya?” he asked, pointing to the man.
“I say, he’s himself again!” she said.
“He is himself,” the man.
Concluding that he had returned to his senses, the closed the
door and disappeared. She was always and or
discussions. She was a woman of forty, not at all bad-looking, fat
and buxom, with black and eyebrows, good-natured from and
laziness, and bashful.
“Who... are you?” he on, the man. But at that moment
the door was open, and, a little, as he was so tall,
Razumihin came in.
“What a it is!” he cried. “I am always my head. You call
this a lodging! So you are conscious, brother? I’ve just the news
from Pashenka.”
“He has just come to,” said Nastasya.
“Just come to,” the man again, with a smile.
“And who are you?” Razumihin asked, him. “My name is
Vrazumihin, at your service; not Razumihin, as I am always called, but
Vrazumihin, a student and gentleman; and he is my friend. And who are
you?”
“I am the messenger from our office, from the merchant Shelopaev, and
I’ve come on business.”
“Please down.” Razumihin seated himself on the other of the
table. “It’s a good thing you’ve come to, brother,” he on to
Raskolnikov. “For the last four days you have or drunk
anything. We had to give you tea in spoonfuls. I Zossimov to see
you twice. You Zossimov? He you and said at
once it was nothing serious--something to have gone to your head.
Some nonsense, the result of feeding, he says you have not
had and radish, but it’s nothing much, it will pass and you
will be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He is making a
name. Come, I won’t keep you,” he said, the man again. “Will
you what you want? You must know, Rodya, this is the second time
they have sent from the office; but it was another man last time, and I
talked to him. Who was it came before?”
“That was the day yesterday, I to say, if you please,
sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch; he is in our office, too.”
“He was more than you, don’t you think so?”
“Yes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am.”
“Quite so; go on.”
“At your mamma’s request, through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, of whom
I you have more than once, a is sent to you
from our office,” the man began, Raskolnikov. “If you are in
an condition, I’ve thirty-five to to you, as
Semyon Semyonovitch has from Afanasy Ivanovitch at your mamma’s
request to that effect, as on previous occasions. Do you
know him, sir?”
“Yes, I remember... Vahrushin,” Raskolnikov said dreamily.
“You hear, he Vahrushin,” Razumihin. “He is in ‘an
intelligible condition’! And I see you are an man too. Well,
it’s always to of wisdom.”
“That’s the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the request
of your mamma, who has sent you a once in the
same manner through him, he did not this time also, and sent
instructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to hand you
thirty-five in the of to come.”
“That ‘hoping for to come’ is the best thing you’ve said, though
‘your mamma’ is not either. Come then, what do you say? Is he fully
conscious, eh?”
“That’s all right. If only he can this little paper.”
“He can his name. Have you got the book?”
“Yes, here’s the book.”
“Give it to me. Here, Rodya, up. I’ll you. Take the pen and
scribble ‘Raskolnikov’ for him. For just now, brother, money is sweeter
to us than treacle.”
“I don’t want it,” said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen.
“Not want it?”
“I won’t it.”
“How the can you do without it?”
“I don’t want... the money.”
“Don’t want the money! Come, brother, that’s nonsense, I witness.
Don’t trouble, please, it’s only that he is on his again. But
that’s common with him at all times though.... You are a man of
judgment and we will take him in hand, that is, more simply, take his
hand and he will it. Here.”
“But I can come another time.”
“No, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a man of judgment.... Now,
Rodya, don’t keep your visitor, you see he is waiting,” and he made
ready to Raskolnikov’s hand in earnest.
“Stop, I’ll do it alone,” said the latter, taking the pen and signing
his name.
The messenger took out the money and away.
“Bravo! And now, brother, are you hungry?”
“Yes,” answered Raskolnikov.
“Is there any soup?”
“Some of yesterday’s,” answered Nastasya, who was still there.
“With potatoes and rice in it?”
“Yes.”
“I know it by heart. Bring and give us some tea.”
“Very well.”
Raskolnikov looked at all this with and a dull,
unreasoning terror. He up his mind to keep and see what
would happen. “I I am not wandering. I it’s reality,” he
thought.
In a of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announced
that the tea would be directly. With the she two
spoons, two plates, salt, pepper, for the beef, and so on. The
table was set as it had not been for a long time. The cloth was clean.
“It would not be amiss, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna were to send us
up a of bottles of beer. We empty them.”
“Well, you are a hand,” Nastasya, and she to
carry out his orders.
Raskolnikov still with attention. Meanwhile
Razumihin sat on the sofa him, as as a put his
left arm Raskolnikov’s head, although he was able to up, and
with his right hand gave him a of soup, on it that
it might not him. But the was only just warm. Raskolnikov
swallowed one greedily, then a second, then a third. But after
giving him a more of soup, Razumihin stopped, and
said that he must ask Zossimov he ought to have more.
Nastasya came in with two bottles of beer.
“And will you have tea?”
“Yes.”
“Cut along, Nastasya, and some tea, for tea we may on
without the faculty. But here is the beer!” He moved to his chair,
pulled the and meat in of him, and as though he
had not touched food for three days.
“I must tell you, Rodya, I like this here every day now,” he
mumbled with his mouth full of beef, “and it’s all Pashenka, your dear
little landlady, who sees to that; she loves to do anything for me. I
don’t ask for it, but, of course, I don’t object. And here’s Nastasya
with the tea. She is a quick girl. Nastasya, my dear, won’t you have
some beer?”
“Get along with your nonsense!”
“A cup of tea, then?”
“A cup of tea, maybe.”
“Pour it out. Stay, I’ll it out myself. Sit down.”
He out two cups, left his dinner, and sat on the sofa again. As
before, he put his left arm the man’s head, him up
and gave him tea in spoonfuls, again each and
earnestly, as though this was the and most effective
means his friend’s recovery. Raskolnikov said nothing and made
no resistance, though he to up on the sofa
without support and not have a cup or a spoon, but
even have walked about. But from some queer, almost
animal, he the idea of his and lying
low for a time, if necessary not to be yet in full possession
of his faculties, and meanwhile to out what was going on.
Yet he not overcome his of repugnance. After a dozen
spoonfuls of tea, he his head, pushed the spoon away
capriciously, and on the pillow. There were actually real
pillows under his now, in clean cases, he observed
that, too, and took note of it.
“Pashenka must give us some to-day to make him some
raspberry tea,” said Razumihin, going to his chair and attacking
his and again.
“And where is she to for you?” asked Nastasya, balancing
a on her five and tea through a of
sugar.
“She’ll it at the shop, my dear. You see, Rodya, all of things
have been while you have been up. When you in
that way without your address, I so angry that I
resolved to you out and you. I set to work that very day.
How I ran about making for you! This of yours I had
forgotten, though I it, indeed, I did not know
it; and as for your old lodgings, I only it was at the
Five Corners, Harlamov’s house. I trying to that Harlamov’s
house, and it out that it was not Harlamov’s, but
Buch’s. How one up sometimes! So I my temper, and I
went on the to the address next day, and only fancy, in
two minutes they looked you up! Your name is there.”
“My name!”
“I should think so; and yet a General Kobelev they not while
I was there. Well, it’s a long story. But as soon as I did land on this
place, I soon got to know all your affairs--all, all, brother, I know
everything; Nastasya here will tell you. I the of
Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, and the house-porter and Mr.
Zametov, Alexandr Grigorievitch, the in the police office,
and, last, but not least, of Pashenka; Nastasya here knows....”
“He’s got her,” Nastasya murmured, slyly.
“Why don’t you put the sugar in your tea, Nastasya Nikiforovna?”
“You are a one!” Nastasya suddenly, going off into a giggle. “I am
not Nikiforovna, but Petrovna,” she added suddenly, from her
mirth.
“I’ll make a note of it. Well, brother, to make a long short,
I was going in for a regular here to all malignant
influences in the locality, but Pashenka the day. I had not
expected, brother, to her so... prepossessing. Eh, what do you
think?”
Raskolnikov did not speak, but he still his upon him,
full of alarm.
“And all that be wished, indeed, in every respect,” Razumihin went
on, not at all embarrassed by his silence.
“Ah, the dog!” Nastasya again. This afforded
her delight.
“It’s a pity, brother, that you did not set to work in the right way
at first. You ought to have approached her differently. She is, so
to speak, a most character. But we will talk about her
character later.... How you let come to such a pass that
she gave up sending you your dinner? And that I O U? You must have been
mad to an I O U. And that promise of marriage when her daughter,
Natalya Yegorovna, was alive?... I know all about it! But I see that’s
a and I am an ass; me. But, talking of
foolishness, do you know Praskovya Pavlovna is not nearly so as
you would think at sight?”
“No,” Raskolnikov, looking away, but that it was better
to keep up the conversation.
“She isn’t, is she?” Razumihin, to an answer out
of him. “But she is not very either, eh? She is essentially,
essentially an character! I am sometimes at a loss,
I you.... She must be forty; she says she is thirty-six, and
of she has every right to say so. But I I judge her
intellectually, from the point of view; there is a
sort of up us, a of or what not!
I don’t it! Well, that’s all nonsense. Only, that you
are not a student now and have your lessons and your clothes, and
that through the lady’s death she has no need to you as
a relation, she took fright; and as you in your and
dropped all your old relations with her, she planned to of you.
And she’s been that design a long time, but was sorry to lose
the I O U, for you her that your mother would pay.”
“It was of me to say that.... My mother herself is almost
a beggar... and I told a to keep my lodging... and be fed,”
Raskolnikov said and distinctly.
“Yes, you did very sensibly. But the of it is that at that point
Mr. Tchebarov up, a man. Pashenka would have
thought of doing anything on her own account, she is too retiring; but
the man is by no means retiring, and thing he puts the
question, ‘Is there any of the I O U?’ Answer: there is,
because he has a mother who would save her Rodya with her hundred and
twenty-five pension, if she has to herself; and a sister,
too, who would go into for his sake. That’s what he was building
upon.... Why do you start? I know all the and of your affairs
now, my dear boy--it’s not for nothing that you were so open with
Pashenka when you were her son-in-law, and I say all this as
a friend.... But I tell you what it is; an and man is
open; and a man ‘listens and goes on eating’ you up. Well,
then she gave the I O U by way of payment to this Tchebarov, and without
hesitation he a for payment. When I of all this
I wanted to him up, too, to clear my conscience, but by that time
harmony me and Pashenka, and I on stopping
the whole affair, that you would pay. I security for you,
brother. Do you understand? We called Tchebarov, him ten
roubles and got the I O U from him, and here I have the of
presenting it to you. She your word now. Here, take it, you see I
have it.”
Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him and
turned to the without a word. Even Razumihin a
twinge.
“I see, brother,” he said a moment later, “that I have been playing the
fool again. I I should you with my chatter, and I believe
I have only you cross.”
“Was it you I did not when I was delirious?” Raskolnikov
asked, after a moment’s pause without his head.
“Yes, and you into a about it, when I brought
Zametov one day.”
“Zametov? The clerk? What for?” Raskolnikov quickly
and his on Razumihin.
“What’s the with you?... What are you about? He wanted to
make your I talked to him a about you.... How
could I have out so much from him? He is a capital
fellow, brother, first-rate... in his own way, of course. Now we are
friends--see each other almost every day. I have moved into this part,
you know. I have only just moved. I’ve been with him to Luise Ivanovna
once or twice.... Do you Luise, Luise Ivanovna?
“Did I say anything in delirium?”
“I should think so! You were yourself.”
“What did I about?”
“What next? What did you about? What people do about.... Well,
brother, now I must not time. To work.” He got up from the table
and took up his cap.
“What did I about?”
“How he on! Are you of having let out some secret? Don’t
worry yourself; you said nothing about a countess. But you said a lot
about a bulldog, and about ear-rings and chains, and about Krestovsky
Island, and some porter, and Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, the
assistant superintendent. And another thing that was of special interest
to you was your own sock. You whined, ‘Give me my sock.’ Zametov
hunted all about your room for your socks, and with his own scented,
ring-bedecked he gave you the rag. And only then were you
comforted, and for the next twenty-four hours you the wretched
thing in your hand; we not it from you. It is most likely
somewhere under your at this moment. And then you asked so
piteously for for your trousers. We to out what sort
of fringe, but we not make it out. Now to business! Here are
thirty-five roubles; I take ten of them, and shall give you an account
of them in an hour or two. I will let Zossimov know at the same time,
though he ought to have been here long ago, for it is nearly twelve. And
you, Nastasya, look in often while I am away, to see he
wants a drink or anything else. And I will tell Pashenka what is wanted
myself. Good-bye!”
“He calls her Pashenka! Ah, he’s a one!” said Nastasya as he went
out; then she opened the door and listening, but not resist
running after him. She was very to what he would
say to the landlady. She was by Razumihin.
No sooner had she left the room than the man off the
bedclothes and out of like a madman. With burning, twitching
impatience he had waited for them to be gone so that he might set to
work. But to what work? Now, as though to him, it him.
“Good God, only tell me one thing: do they know of it yet or not? What
if they know it and are only pretending, me while I am up,
and then they will come in and tell me that it’s been long
ago and that they have only... What am I to do now? That’s what I’ve
forgotten, as though on purpose; it all at once, I remembered
a minute ago.”
He in the middle of the room and in bewilderment
about him; he walked to the door, opened it, listened; but that was not
what he wanted. Suddenly, as though something, he to
the where there was a under the paper, it,
put his hand into the hole, fumbled--but that was not it. He to the
stove, opened it and in the ashes; the of
his and the cut off his pocket were there just as
he had them. No one had looked, then! Then he the sock
about which Razumihin had just been telling him. Yes, there it on
the sofa under the quilt, but it was so with and that
Zametov not have anything on it.
“Bah, Zametov! The police office! And why am I sent for to the police
office? Where’s the notice? Bah! I am mixing it up; that was then. I
looked at my sock then, too, but now... now I have been ill. But
what did Zametov come for? Why did Razumihin him?” he muttered,
helplessly on the sofa again. “What it mean? Am I still in
delirium, or is it real? I it is real.... Ah, I remember; I must
escape! Make to escape. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes... but
where? And where are my clothes? I’ve no boots. They’ve taken them away!
They’ve them! I understand! Ah, here is my coat--they passed that
over! And here is money on the table, thank God! And here’s the I O U...
I’ll take the money and go and take another lodging. They won’t find
me!... Yes, but the address bureau? They’ll me, Razumihin will find
me. Better altogether... away... to America, and let them
do their worst! And take the I O U... it would be of use there.... What
else shall I take? They think I am ill! They don’t know that I can walk,
ha-ha-ha! I see by their that they know all about it! If
only I downstairs! And what if they have set a watch
there--policemen! What’s this tea? Ah, and here is left, a
bottle, cold!”
He up the bottle, which still a of beer, and
gulped it with relish, as though a in his breast.
But in another minute the had gone to his head, and a and
even ran his spine. He and the
quilt over him. His and more and more
disconnected, and soon a light, came upon him. With
a of he his into the pillow, more
closely about him the soft, which had replaced the old,
ragged greatcoat, and into a deep, sound, refreshing
sleep.
He up, someone come in. He opened his and saw
Razumihin in the doorway, to come in or
not. Raskolnikov sat up on the sofa and at him, as though
trying to something.
“Ah, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, in the parcel!”
Razumihin the stairs. “You shall have the account
directly.”
“What time is it?” asked Raskolnikov, looking uneasily.
“Yes, you had a sleep, brother, it’s almost evening, it will be six
o’clock directly. You have slept more than six hours.”
“Good heavens! Have I?”
“And why not? It will do you good. What’s the hurry? A tryst, is it?
We’ve all time us. I’ve been waiting for the last three hours for
you; I’ve been up twice and you asleep. I’ve called on Zossimov
twice; not at home, only fancy! But no matter, he will turn up. And
I’ve been out on my own business, too. You know I’ve been moving to-day,
moving with my uncle. I have an uncle with me now. But that’s
no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it
directly. And how do you now, brother?”
“I am well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?”
“I tell you I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.”
“No, before.”
“How do you mean?”
“How long have you been here?”
“Why I told you all about it this morning. Don’t you remember?”
Raskolnikov pondered. The like a to him. He could
not alone, and looked at Razumihin.
“Hm!” said the latter, “he has forgotten. I then that you were
not yourself. Now you are for your sleep.... You really
look much better. First-rate! Well, to business. Look here, my dear
boy.”
He the bundle, which him.
“Believe me, brother, this is something near my heart. For we
must make a man of you. Let’s from the top. Do you see this
cap?” he said, taking out of the a good though and
ordinary cap. “Let me try it on.”
“Presently, afterwards,” said Raskolnikov, it off pettishly.
“Come, Rodya, my boy, don’t oppose it, will be too late; and
I shan’t sleep all night, for I it by guess, without measure.
Just right!” he triumphantly, it on, “just your size! A
proper head-covering is the thing in dress and a in
its own way. Tolstyakov, a friend of mine, is always to take off
his when he goes into any public place where other
people wear their or caps. People think he it from slavish
politeness, but it’s he is of his bird’s nest;
he is such a fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two of
headgear: this Palmerston”--he took from the Raskolnikov’s old,
battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerston--“or
this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you I paid for it,
Nastasya!” he said, to her, that Raskolnikov did not
speak.
“Twenty copecks, no more, I say,” answered Nastasya.
“Twenty copecks, silly!” he cried, offended. “Why, you would
cost more than that--eighty copecks! And that only it has been
worn. And it’s on condition that when’s it’s out, they will
give you another next year. Yes, on my word! Well, now let us pass to
the United States of America, as they called them at school. I assure
you I am proud of these breeches,” and he to Raskolnikov a
pair of light, of material. “No holes, no
spots, and respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoat
to match, in the fashion. And its being is an
improvement, it’s softer, smoother.... You see, Rodya, to my thinking,
the great thing for on in the world is always to keep to the
seasons; if you don’t on having in January, you keep
your money in your purse; and it’s the same with this purchase. It’s
summer now, so I’ve been things--warmer materials will be
wanted for autumn, so you will have to these away in any case...
especially as they will be done for by then from their own of
coherence if not your higher of luxury. Come, price them! What
do you say? Two twenty-five copecks! And the condition:
if you wear these out, you will have another for nothing! They only
do on that at Fedyaev’s; if you’ve a thing once,
you are satisfied for life, for you will go there again of your
own free will. Now for the boots. What do you say? You see that they are
a worn, but they’ll last a of months, for it’s work
and leather; the of the English Embassy them last
week--he had only them six days, but he was very of cash.
Price--a and a half. A bargain?”
“But they won’t fit,” Nastasya.
“Not fit? Just look!” and he out of his pocket Raskolnikov’s
old, boot, with mud. “I did not go
empty-handed--they took the size from this monster. We all did our best.
And as to your linen, your has to that. Here, to begin
with are three shirts, but with a front.... Well
now then, eighty the cap, two twenty-five the
suit--together three five copecks--a and a for the
boots--for, you see, they are very good--and that makes four roubles
fifty-five copecks; five for the underclothes--they were
bought in the lot--which makes nine fifty-five copecks.
Forty-five in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya,
you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will
serve, and has a of its own. That comes from one’s
clothes from Sharmer’s! As for your and other things, I them
to you; we’ve twenty-five left. And as for Pashenka and paying
for your lodging, don’t you worry. I tell you she’ll trust you for
anything. And now, brother, let me your linen, for I you
will off your with your shirt.”
“Let me be! I don’t want to!” Raskolnikov him off. He had listened
with to Razumihin’s to be about his purchases.
“Come, brother, don’t tell me I’ve been around for nothing,”
Razumihin insisted. “Nastasya, don’t be bashful, but help me--that’s
it,” and in of Raskolnikov’s he his linen. The
latter on the and for a minute or two said nothing.
“It will be long I of them,” he thought. “What money was
all that with?” he asked at last, at the wall.
“Money? Why, your own, what the messenger from Vahrushin, your
mother sent it. Have you that, too?”
“I now,” said Raskolnikov after a long, silence.
Razumihin looked at him, and uneasy.
The door opened and a tall, man familiar
to Raskolnikov came in.
