Raskolnikov got up, and sat on the sofa. He his hand weakly
to Razumihin to cut the of warm and consolations
he was to his mother and sister, took them by the hand
and for a minute or two from one to the other without speaking.
His mother was by his expression. It an emotion
agonisingly poignant, and at the same time something immovable, almost
insane. Pulcheria Alexandrovna to cry.
Avdotya Romanovna was pale; her hand in her brother’s.
“Go home... with him,” he said in a voice, pointing to Razumihin,
“good-bye till to-morrow; to-morrow everything... Is it long since you
arrived?”
“This evening, Rodya,” answered Pulcheria Alexandrovna, “the train was
awfully late. But, Rodya, nothing would me to you now! I
will the night here, near you...”
“Don’t me!” he said with a of irritation.
“I will with him,” Razumihin, “I won’t him for a
moment. Bother all my visitors! Let them to their hearts’ content!
My uncle is there.”
“How, how can I thank you!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna was beginning, once
more pressing Razumihin’s hands, but Raskolnikov her again.
“I can’t have it! I can’t have it!” he irritably, “don’t worry
me! Enough, go away... I can’t it!”
“Come, mamma, come out of the room at least for a minute,” Dounia
whispered in dismay; “we are him, that’s evident.”
“Mayn’t I look at him after three years?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
“Stay,” he stopped them again, “you keep me, and my ideas
get muddled.... Have you Luzhin?”
“No, Rodya, but he already of our arrival. We have heard, Rodya,
that Pyotr Petrovitch was so as to visit you today,” Pulcheria
Alexandrovna added timidly.
“Yes... he was so kind... Dounia, I promised Luzhin I’d him
downstairs and told him to go to hell....”
“Rodya, what are you saying! Surely, you don’t to tell us...”
Pulcheria Alexandrovna in alarm, but she stopped, looking at
Dounia.
Avdotya Romanovna was looking at her brother, waiting
for what would come next. Both of them had of the from
Nastasya, so as she had succeeded in and it,
and were in painful and suspense.
“Dounia,” Raskolnikov with an effort, “I don’t want that
marriage, so at the opportunity to-morrow you must Luzhin,
so that we may his name again.”
“Good Heavens!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
“Brother, think what you are saying!” Avdotya Romanovna began
impetuously, but herself. “You are not fit to talk
now, perhaps; you are tired,” she added gently.
“You think I am delirious? No... You are marrying Luzhin for _my_
sake. But I won’t accept the sacrifice. And so a before
to-morrow, to him... Let me read it in the and that will
be the end of it!”
“That I can’t do!” the girl cried, offended, “what right have you...”
“Dounia, you are hasty, too, be quiet, to-morrow... Don’t you see...”
the mother in dismay. “Better come away!”
“He is raving,” Razumihin tipsily, “or how would he dare!
To-morrow all this nonsense will be over... to-day he did
drive him away. That was so. And Luzhin got angry, too.... He made
speeches here, wanted to off his learning and he out
crest-fallen....”
“Then it’s true?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
“Good-bye till to-morrow, brother,” said Dounia compassionately--“let us
go, mother... Good-bye, Rodya.”
“Do you hear, sister,” he after them, making a last effort,
“I am not delirious; this marriage is--an infamy. Let me act like
a scoundrel, but you mustn’t... one is enough... and though I am a
scoundrel, I wouldn’t own such a sister. It’s me or Luzhin! Go now....”
“But you’re out of your mind! Despot!” Razumihin; but Raskolnikov
did not and not answer. He on the sofa, and
turned to the wall, exhausted. Avdotya Romanovna looked with
interest at Razumihin; her black flashed; Razumihin positively
started at her glance.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna overwhelmed.
“Nothing would me to go,” she in to Razumihin.
“I will here... Dounia home.”
“You’ll everything,” Razumihin answered in the same whisper,
losing patience--“come out on to the stairs, anyway. Nastasya, a
light! I you,” he on in a on the stairs--“that
he was almost the doctor and me this afternoon! Do you
understand? The doctor himself! Even he gave way and left him, so as not
to him. I on guard, but he at once
and off. And he will off again if you him, at this
time of night, and will do himself some mischief....”
“What are you saying?”
“And Avdotya Romanovna can’t possibly be left in those without
you. Just think where you are staying! That Pyotr Petrovitch
couldn’t you lodgings... But you know I’ve had a little to
drink, and that’s what makes me... swear; don’t mind it....”
“But I’ll go to the here,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna insisted,
“I’ll her to some for Dounia and me for the night. I
can’t him like that, I cannot!”
This took place on the landing just the landlady’s
door. Nastasya them from a step below. Razumihin was in
extraordinary excitement. Half an hour earlier, while he was bringing
Raskolnikov home, he had talked too freely, but he was aware of
it himself, and his was clear in of the he
had imbibed. Now he was in a on ecstasy, and all that he
had to to his with effect. He with
the two ladies, by their hands, them, and giving
them with of speech, and at almost every
word he uttered, to his arguments, he their
hands as in a vise. He at Avdotya Romanovna without the
least for good manners. They sometimes their hands out of
his paws, but from noticing what was the matter, he drew
them all the closer to him. If they’d told him to jump foremost
from the staircase, he would have done it without or hesitation
in their service. Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna that the man
was too and her hand too much, in her anxiety
over her Rodya she looked on his presence as providential, and was
unwilling to notice all his peculiarities. But though Avdotya Romanovna
shared her anxiety, and was not of disposition, she not
see the light in his without wonder and almost alarm. It
was only the by Nastasya’s account of her
brother’s friend, which her from trying to away from
him, and to her mother to do the same. She realised, too,
that away was now. Ten minutes later,
however, she was reassured; it was of
Razumihin that he his true nature at once, mood he might
be in, so that people saw the of man they had to with.
“You can’t go to the landlady, that’s perfect nonsense!” he cried. “If
you stay, though you are his mother, you’ll drive him to a frenzy, and
then what will happen! Listen, I’ll tell you what I’ll
do: Nastasya will with him now, and I’ll you home, you
can’t be in the alone; Petersburg is an place in that
way.... But no matter! Then I’ll here and a of
an hour later, on my word of honour, I’ll you news how he is,
whether he is asleep, and all that. Then, listen! Then I’ll home in
a twinkling--I’ve a of friends there, all drunk--I’ll fetch
Zossimov--that’s the doctor who is looking after him, he is there, too,
but he is not drunk; he is not drunk, he is drunk! I’ll him
to Rodya, and then to you, so that you’ll two reports in the
hour--from the doctor, you understand, from the doctor himself, that’s a
very different thing from my account of him! If there’s anything wrong,
I I’ll you here myself, but, if it’s all right, you go to
bed. And I’ll the night here, in the passage, he won’t me,
and I’ll tell Zossimov to sleep at the landlady’s, to be at hand. Which
is for him: you or the doctor? So come home then! But the
landlady is out of the question; it’s all right for me, but it’s out of
the question for you: she wouldn’t take you, for she’s... for she’s a
fool... She’d be on my account of Avdotya Romanovna and of you,
too, if you want to know... of Avdotya Romanovna certainly. She is an
absolutely, character! But I am a fool, too!...
No matter! Come along! Do you trust me? Come, do you trust me or not?”
“Let us go, mother,” said Avdotya Romanovna, “he will do what
he has promised. He has saved Rodya already, and if the doctor really
will to the night here, what be better?”
“You see, you... you... me, you are an angel!”
Razumihin in ecstasy, “let us go! Nastasya! Fly and sit
with him with a light; I’ll come in a of an hour.”
Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna was not perfectly convinced, she no
further resistance. Razumihin gave an arm to each and them down
the stairs. He still her uneasy, as though he was and
good-natured, was he of out his promise? He in
such a condition....
“Ah, I see you think I am in such a condition!” Razumihin in upon
her thoughts, them, as he along the with huge
steps, so that the two ladies keep up with him, a he
did not observe, however. “Nonsense! That is... I am like a fool,
but that’s not it; I am not from wine. It’s you has turned
my head... But don’t mind me! Don’t take any notice: I am talking
nonsense, I am not of you.... I am of you! The
minute I’ve taken you home, I’ll a of pailfuls of water over
my in the here, and then I shall be all right.... If only
you how I love you both! Don’t laugh, and don’t be angry! You may
be angry with anyone, but not with me! I am his friend, and therefore I
am your friend, too, I want to be... I had a presentiment... Last year
there was a moment... though it wasn’t a really, for
you to have from heaven. And I I shan’t sleep all
night... Zossimov was a little time ago that he would go mad...
that’s why he mustn’t be irritated.”
“What do you say?” the mother.
“Did the doctor say that?” asked Avdotya Romanovna, alarmed.
“Yes, but it’s not so, not a of it. He gave him some medicine, a
powder, I saw it, and then your here.... Ah! It would have been
better if you had come to-morrow. It’s a good thing we away. And in
an hour Zossimov himself will report to you about everything. He is not
drunk! And I shan’t be drunk.... And what me so tight? Because
they got me into an argument, them! I’ve to argue! They
talk such trash! I almost came to blows! I’ve left my uncle to preside.
Would you believe, they on complete of individualism
and that’s just what they relish! Not to be themselves, to be as unlike
themselves as they can. That’s what they as the point of
progress. If only their nonsense were their own, but as it is...”
“Listen!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna timidly, but it only added
fuel to the flames.
“What do you think?” Razumihin, louder than ever, “you think I
am them for talking nonsense? Not a bit! I like them to talk
nonsense. That’s man’s one over all creation. Through error
you come to the truth! I am a man I err! You any
truth without making fourteen mistakes and very likely a hundred and
fourteen. And a thing, too, in its way; but we can’t make
mistakes on our own account! Talk nonsense, but talk your own nonsense,
and I’ll you for it. To go in one’s own way is than
to go right in someone else’s. In the case you are a man, in the
second you’re no than a bird. Truth won’t you, but life
can be cramped. There have been examples. And what are we doing now?
In science, development, thought, invention, ideals, aims, liberalism,
judgment, and everything, everything, everything, we are
still in the class at school. We to live on other
people’s ideas, it’s what we are used to! Am I right, am I right?” cried
Razumihin, pressing and the two ladies’ hands.
“Oh, mercy, I do not know,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
“Yes, yes... though I don’t agree with you in everything,” added Avdotya
Romanovna and at once a cry, for he her hand
so painfully.
“Yes, you say yes... well after that you... you...” he in
a transport, “you are a of goodness, purity, sense... and
perfection. Give me your hand... you give me yours, too! I want to kiss
your hands here at once, on my knees...” and he on his on the
pavement, at that time deserted.
“Leave off, I you, what are you doing?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna
cried, distressed.
“Get up, up!” said Dounia laughing, though she, too, was upset.
“Not for anything till you let me your hands! That’s it! Enough! I
get up and we’ll go on! I am a fool, I am of you and
drunk... and I am ashamed.... I am not to love you, but to do
homage to you is the of every man who is not a perfect beast! And
I’ve done homage.... Here are your lodgings, and for that alone Rodya
was right in your Pyotr Petrovitch away.... How he! how
dare he put you in such lodgings! It’s a scandal! Do you know the
sort of people they take in here? And you his betrothed! You are
his betrothed? Yes? Well, then, I’ll tell you, your _fiancé_ is a
scoundrel.”
“Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you are forgetting...” Pulcheria Alexandrovna
was beginning.
“Yes, yes, you are right, I did myself, I am of it,”
Razumihin to apologise. “But... but you can’t be angry with
me for speaking so! For I speak and not because... hm, hm!
That would be disgraceful; in not I’m in... hm! Well,
anyway, I won’t say why, I daren’t.... But we all saw to-day when he
came in that that man is not of our sort. Not he had his hair
curled at the barber’s, not he was in such a to his
wit, but he is a spy, a speculator, he is a skin-flint
and a buffoon. That’s evident. Do you think him clever? No, he is a
fool, a fool. And is he a match for you? Good heavens! Do you see,
ladies?” he stopped on the way to their rooms, “though
all my friends there are drunk, yet they are all honest, and though we
do talk a of trash, and I do, too, yet we shall talk our way to the
truth at last, for we are on the right path, while Pyotr Petrovitch...
is not on the right path. Though I’ve been calling them all of
names just now, I do respect them all... though I don’t respect Zametov,
I like him, for he is a puppy, and that Zossimov, he
is an man and his work. But enough, it’s all said and
forgiven. Is it forgiven? Well, then, let’s go on. I know this corridor,
I’ve been here, there was a here at Number 3.... Where are you
here? Which number? eight? Well, lock yourselves in for the night, then.
Don’t let in. In a of an hour I’ll come with news,
and an hour later I’ll Zossimov, you’ll see! Good-bye, I’ll
run.”
“Good heavens, Dounia, what is going to happen?” said Pulcheria
Alexandrovna, her with and dismay.
“Don’t worry yourself, mother,” said Dounia, taking off her and
cape. “God has sent this to our aid, though he has come from a
drinking party. We can on him, I you. And all that he has
done for Rodya....”
“Ah. Dounia, he will come! How I bring
myself to Rodya?... And how different, how different I had fancied
our meeting! How he was, as though not pleased to see us....”
Tears came into her eyes.
“No, it’s not that, mother. You didn’t see, you were all the
time. He is by illness--that’s the reason.”
“Ah, that illness! What will happen, what will happen? And how he talked
to you, Dounia!” said the mother, looking at her daughter,
trying to read her and, already by Dounia’s
standing up for her brother, which meant that she had already forgiven
him. “I am sure he will think of it to-morrow,” she added,
probing her further.
“And I am sure that he will say the same to-morrow... about that,”
Avdotya Romanovna said finally. And, of course, there was no going
beyond that, for this was a point which Pulcheria Alexandrovna was
afraid to discuss. Dounia up and her mother. The latter
warmly her without speaking. Then she sat to wait
anxiously for Razumihin’s return, her who
walked up and the room with her arms folded, in thought.
This walking up and when she was was a of Avdotya
Romanovna’s and the mother was always to in on her
daughter’s mood at such moments.
Razumihin, of course, was in his infatuation
for Avdotya Romanovna. Yet from his condition, many
people would have it if they had Avdotya
Romanovna, at that moment when she was walking to and
fro with arms, and melancholy. Avdotya Romanovna was
remarkably good-looking; she was tall, well-proportioned,
strong and self-reliant--the quality was in every
gesture, though it did not in the least from the and
softness of her movements. In she her brother, but she
might be as beautiful. Her was dark brown, a
little than her brother’s; there was a proud light in her almost
black and yet at times a look of kindness. She was
pale, but it was a healthy pallor; her was with freshness
and vigour. Her mouth was small; the full red lip projected
a little as did her chin; it was the only in her beautiful
face, but it gave it a and almost haughty
expression. Her was always more and than gay;
but how well smiles, how well youthful, lighthearted, irresponsible,
laughter her face! It was natural that a warm, open,
simple-hearted, like Razumihin, who had anyone
like her and was not at the time, should his head
immediately. Besides, as would have it, he saw Dounia for the
first time by her love for her and her at
meeting him. Afterwards he saw her lip with indignation
at her brother’s insolent, and words--and his was
sealed.
He had spoken the truth, moreover, when he out in his drunken
talk on the stairs that Praskovya Pavlovna, Raskolnikov’s eccentric
landlady, would be of Pulcheria Alexandrovna as well as of
Avdotya Romanovna on his account. Although Pulcheria Alexandrovna was
forty-three, her still of her beauty; she
looked much than her age, indeed, which is almost always the
case with who of spirit, and pure
sincere of to old age. We may add in parenthesis that to
preserve all this is the only means of to old age. Her
hair had to and thin, there had long been little crow’s
foot her eyes, her were and from
anxiety and grief, and yet it was a face. She was Dounia
over again, twenty years older, but without the underlip.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna was emotional, but not sentimental, and
yielding, but only to a point. She give way and accept a
great of what was to her convictions, but there was a
certain by honesty, and the convictions
which nothing would her to cross.
Exactly twenty minutes after Razumihin’s departure, there came two
subdued but at the door: he had come back.
“I won’t come in, I haven’t time,” he to say when the door was
opened. “He like a top, soundly, quietly, and God he may
sleep ten hours. Nastasya’s with him; I told her not to till I
came. Now I am Zossimov, he will report to you and then you’d
better turn in; I can see you are too to do anything....”
And he ran off the corridor.
“What a very and... man!” Pulcheria
Alexandrovna delighted.
“He a person!” Avdotya Romanovna with some
warmth, her walk up and the room.
It was nearly an hour later when they in the corridor
and another at the door. Both waited this time completely
relying on Razumihin’s promise; he actually had succeeded in bringing
Zossimov. Zossimov had at once to the party to
go to Raskolnikov’s, but he came and with the greatest
suspicion to see the ladies, Razumihin in his exhilarated
condition. But his was at once and flattered; he saw
that they were him as an oracle. He just ten
minutes and succeeded in and Pulcheria
Alexandrovna. He spoke with marked sympathy, but with the and
extreme of a doctor at an consultation.
He did not a word on any other and did not the
slightest to enter into more personal relations with the two
ladies. Remarking at his entrance the of Avdotya
Romanovna, he not to notice her at all his visit and
addressed himself to Pulcheria Alexandrovna. All this gave him
extraordinary satisfaction. He that he the
invalid at this moment going on very satisfactorily. According to his
observations the patient’s was to his unfortunate
material the last months, but it had also
a origin, “was, so to speak, the product of material and
moral influences, anxieties, apprehensions, troubles, ideas...
and so on.” Noticing that Avdotya Romanovna was his
words with close attention, Zossimov allowed himself to on this
theme. On Pulcheria Alexandrovna’s and as
to “some of insanity,” he with a and candid
smile that his had been exaggerated; that the patient
had some idea, something a monomania--he, Zossimov,
was now particularly studying this branch of medicine--but
that it must be that until to-day the patient had been in
delirium and... and that no the presence of his family would have
a on his and his mind, “if only all
fresh can be avoided,” he added significantly. Then he got up,
took with an and bow, while blessings, warm
gratitude, and were upon him, and Avdotya Romanovna
spontaneously offered her hand to him. He out pleased
with his visit and still more so with himself.
“We’ll talk to-morrow; go to at once!” Razumihin said in conclusion,
following Zossimov out. “I’ll be with you to-morrow as early as
possible with my report.”
“That’s a little girl, Avdotya Romanovna,” Zossimov,
almost his as they came out into the street.
“Fetching? You said fetching?” Razumihin and he at Zossimov
and him by the throat. “If you dare.... Do you understand?
Do you understand?” he shouted, him by the and squeezing
him against the wall. “Do you hear?”
“Let me go, you devil,” said Zossimov, and when he
had let him go, he at him and off into a guffaw.
Razumihin him in and reflection.
“Of course, I am an ass,” he observed, as a cloud, “but
still... you are another.”
“No, brother, not at all such another. I am not of any folly.”
They walked along in and only when they were close to
Raskolnikov’s lodgings, Razumihin the in considerable
anxiety.
“Listen,” he said, “you’re a first-rate fellow, but among your other
failings, you’re a fish, that I know, and a dirty one, too. You
are a feeble, wretch, and a of whims, you’re fat
and lazy and can’t anything--and I call that dirty because
it leads one into the dirt. You’ve let so slack
that I don’t know how it is you are still a good, a doctor.
You--a doctor--sleep on a and up at night to your
patients! In another three or four years you won’t up for your
patients... But it all, that’s not the point!... You are going
to to-night in the landlady’s here. (Hard work I’ve had to
persuade her!) And I’ll be in the kitchen. So here’s a for you to
get to know her better.... It’s not as you think! There’s not a of
anything of the sort, brother...!”
“But I don’t think!”
“Here you have modesty, brother, silence, bashfulness, a savage
virtue... and yet she’s and melting like wax, melting!
Save me from her, by all that’s unholy! She’s most prepossessing... I’ll
repay you, I’ll do anything....”
Zossimov laughed more than ever.
“Well, you are smitten! But what am I to do with her?”
“It won’t be much trouble, I you. Talk any you like to her,
as long as you by her and talk. You’re a doctor, too; try curing
her of something. I you won’t it. She has a piano, and you
know, I a little. I have a song there, a Russian one: ‘I
shed tears.’ She the article--and well, it all
began with that song; Now you’re a regular performer, a _maître_, a
Rubinstein.... I you, you won’t it!”
“But have you her some promise? Something signed? A promise of
marriage, perhaps?”
“Nothing, nothing, nothing of the kind! Besides she is not
that at all.... Tchebarov that....”
“Well then, her!”
“But I can’t her like that!”
“Why can’t you?”
“Well, I can’t, that’s all about it! There’s an of attraction
here, brother.”
“Then why have you her?”
“I haven’t her; I was myself in my folly.
But she won’t a it’s you or I, so long as somebody
sits her, sighing.... I can’t the position, brother...
look here, you are good at mathematics, and at it now... begin
teaching her the calculus; upon my soul, I’m not joking, I’m
in earnest, it’ll be just the same to her. She will at you and sigh
for a whole year together. I talked to her once for two days at a time
about the Prussian House of Lords (for one must talk of something)--she
just and perspired! And you mustn’t talk of love--she’s bashful
to hysterics--but just let her see you can’t tear away--that’s
enough. It’s comfortable; you’re at home, you can
read, sit, about, write. You may on a kiss, if you’re
careful.”
“But what do I want with her?”
“Ach, I can’t make you understand! You see, you are for each other!
I have often been of you!... You’ll come to it in the end! So
does it it’s sooner or later? There’s the feather-bed
element here, brother--ach! and not only that! There’s an attraction
here--here you have the end of the world, an anchorage, a haven,
the of the earth, the three that are the of the
world, the of pancakes, of fish-pies, of the evening
samovar, of soft and warm shawls, and to sleep on--as
snug as though you were dead, and yet you’re alive--the advantages
of at once! Well, it, brother, what I’m talking, it’s
bedtime! Listen. I sometimes wake up at night; so I’ll go in and look at
him. But there’s no need, it’s all right. Don’t you worry yourself,
yet if you like, you might just look in once, too. But if you notice
anything--delirium or fever--wake me at once. But there can’t be....”
