At that moment the door was opened, and a girl walked into
the room, looking about her. Everyone her with
surprise and curiosity. At sight, Raskolnikov did not recognise
her. It was Sofya Semyonovna Marmeladov. He had her yesterday for
the time, but at such a moment, in such and in such
a dress, that his memory a very different image of her. Now she
was a and poorly-dressed girl, very young, indeed,
almost like a child, with a and manner, with a but
somewhat frightened-looking face. She was a very plain indoor
dress, and had on a old-fashioned hat, but she still a
parasol. Unexpectedly the room full of people, she was not so
much embarrassed as with shyness, like a
little child. She was about to retreat. “Oh... it’s you!” said
Raskolnikov, astonished, and he, too, was confused. He at once
recollected that his mother and sister through Luzhin’s letter
of “some woman of behaviour.” He had only just been
protesting against Luzhin’s and that he had the
girl last night for the time, and she had walked in. He
remembered, too, that he had not against the “of
notorious behaviour.” All this passed and through
his brain, but looking at her more intently, he saw that the humiliated
creature was so that he sorry for her. When she
made a movement to in terror, it sent a to his heart.
“I did not you,” he said, hurriedly, with a look that her
stop. “Please down. You come, no doubt, from Katerina Ivanovna.
Allow me--not there. Sit here....”
At Sonia’s entrance, Razumihin, who had been on one of
Raskolnikov’s three chairs, close to the door, got up to allow her to
enter. Raskolnikov had at her the place on the sofa where
Zossimov had been sitting, but that the sofa which him
as a bed, was too _familiar_ a place, he her to
Razumihin’s chair.
“You here,” he said to Razumihin, him on the sofa.
Sonia sat down, almost with terror, and looked at the
two ladies. It was almost to herself that she
could them. At the of it, she was so frightened
that she got up again, and in addressed
Raskolnikov.
“I... I... have come for one minute. Forgive me for you,” she
began falteringly. “I come from Katerina Ivanovna, and she had no one to
send. Katerina Ivanovna told me to you... to be at the service... in
the morning... at Mitrofanievsky... and then... to us... to her...
to do her the honour... she told me to you...” Sonia and
ceased speaking.
“I will try, certainly, most certainly,” answered Raskolnikov. He,
too, up, and he, too, and not his sentence.
“Please down,” he said, suddenly. “I want to talk to you. You are
perhaps in a hurry, but please, be so kind, me two minutes,” and
he up a chair for her.
Sonia sat again, and again she took a hurried, frightened
look at the two ladies, and her eyes. Raskolnikov’s face
flushed, a passed over him, his glowed.
“Mother,” he said, and insistently, “this is Sofya Semyonovna
Marmeladov, the of that Mr. Marmeladov, who was run
over yesterday my eyes, and of I was just telling you.”
Pulcheria Alexandrovna at Sonia, and up
her eyes. In of her Rodya’s urgent and
challenging look, she not herself that satisfaction. Dounia
gazed and into the girl’s face, and scrutinised
her with perplexity. Sonia, herself introduced, to raise
her again, but was more embarrassed than ever.
“I wanted to ask you,” said Raskolnikov, hastily, “how were
arranged yesterday. You were not by the police, for instance?”
“No, that was all right... it was too evident, the of death...
they did not worry us... only the are angry.”
“Why?”
“At the body’s so long. You see it is now. So that,
to-day, they will it to the cemetery, into the chapel, until
to-morrow. At Katerina Ivanovna was unwilling, but now she sees
herself that it’s necessary...”
“To-day, then?”
“She you to do us the to be in the church to-morrow for the
service, and then to be present at the lunch.”
“She is a lunch?”
“Yes... just a little.... She told me to thank you very much for helping
us yesterday. But for you, we should have had nothing for the funeral.”
All at once her and trembling, but, with an effort, she
controlled herself, looking again.
During the conversation, Raskolnikov her carefully. She had a
thin, very thin, little face, and angular, with a
sharp little nose and chin. She not have been called pretty, but
her were so clear, and when they up, there was such
a and in her that one not help
being attracted. Her face, and her whole indeed, had another
peculiar characteristic. In of her eighteen years, she looked
almost a little girl--almost a child. And in some of her gestures, this
childishness almost absurd.
“But has Katerina Ivanovna been able to manage with such small means?
Does she to have a lunch?” Raskolnikov asked,
persistently up the conversation.
“The will be plain, of course... and will be plain, so
it won’t cost much. Katerina Ivanovna and I have it all out, so
that there will be left... and Katerina Ivanovna was very anxious
it should be so. You know one can’t... it’s a to her... she is
like that, you know....”
“I understand, I understand... of course... why do you look at my room
like that? My mother has just said it is like a tomb.”
“You gave us yesterday,” Sonia said suddenly, in reply, in a
loud whisper; and again she looked in confusion. Her lips
and were once more. She had been at once
by Raskolnikov’s surroundings, and now these out
spontaneously. A followed. There was a light in Dounia’s eyes,
and Pulcheria Alexandrovna looked at Sonia.
“Rodya,” she said, up, “we shall have dinner together, of
course. Come, Dounia.... And you, Rodya, had go for a little
walk, and then and you come to see us.... I am
afraid we have you....”
“Yes, yes, I’ll come,” he answered, up fussily. “But I have
something to see to.”
“But surely you will have dinner together?” Razumihin, looking in
surprise at Raskolnikov. “What do you mean?”
“Yes, yes, I am coming... of course, of course! And you a minute.
You do not want him just now, do you, mother? Or I am taking him
from you?”
“Oh, no, no. And will you, Dmitri Prokofitch, do us the of dining
with us?”
“Please do,” added Dounia.
Razumihin bowed, positively radiant. For one moment, they were all
strangely embarrassed.
“Good-bye, Rodya, that is till we meet. I do not like saying good-bye.
Good-bye, Nastasya. Ah, I have said good-bye again.”
Pulcheria Alexandrovna meant to Sonia, too; but it somehow failed
to come off, and she in a out of the room.
But Avdotya Romanovna to her turn, and her mother
out, gave Sonia an attentive, bow. Sonia, in confusion, gave
a hurried, curtsy. There was a look of discomfort
in her face, as though Avdotya Romanovna’s and attention were
oppressive and painful to her.
“Dounia, good-bye,” called Raskolnikov, in the passage. “Give me your
hand.”
“Why, I did give it to you. Have you forgotten?” said Dounia, turning
warmly and to him.
“Never mind, give it to me again.” And he her warmly.
Dounia smiled, flushed, her hand away, and off happy.
“Come, that’s capital,” he said to Sonia, going and looking
brightly at her. “God give peace to the dead, the have still to
live. That is right, isn’t it?”
Sonia looked at the of his face. He looked
at her for some moments in silence. The whole history of the father
floated his memory in those moments....
*****
“Heavens, Dounia,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna began, as soon as they were in
the street, “I myself at away--more at ease.
How little did I think yesterday in the train that I be glad
of that.”
“I tell you again, mother, he is still very ill. Don’t you see it?
Perhaps about us him. We must be patient, and much, much
can be forgiven.”
“Well, you were not very patient!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna her up,
hotly and jealously. “Do you know, Dounia, I was looking at you two. You
are the very portrait of him, and not so much in as in soul. You
are melancholy, and hot-tempered, and both
generous.... Surely he can’t be an egoist, Dounia. Eh? When I think of
what is in store for us this evening, my sinks!”
“Don’t be uneasy, mother. What must be, will be.”
“Dounia, only think what a position we are in! What if Pyotr Petrovitch
breaks it off?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna out, incautiously.
“He won’t be much if he does,” answered Dounia, and
contemptuously.
“We did well to come away,” Pulcheria Alexandrovna in.
“He was in a about some or other. If he out and has
a of air... it is close in his room.... But where is
one to a of air here? The very here like shut-up
rooms. Good heavens! what a town!... stay... this side... they will
crush you--carrying something. Why, it is a piano they have got, I
declare... how they push!... I am very much of that woman,
too.”
“What woman, mother?
“Why, that Sofya Semyonovna, who was there just now.”
“Why?”
“I have a presentiment, Dounia. Well, you may it or not, but
as soon as she came in, that very minute, I that she was the chief
cause of the trouble....”
“Nothing of the sort!” Dounia, in vexation. “What nonsense, with
your presentiments, mother! He only her the evening
before, and he did not know her when she came in.”
“Well, you will see.... She me; but you will see, you will
see! I was so frightened. She was at me with those eyes. I could
scarcely still in my chair when he her, do you
remember? It so strange, but Pyotr Petrovitch like that
about her, and he her to us--to you! So he must think a great
deal of her.”
“People will anything. We were talked about and about,
too. Have you forgotten? I am sure that she is a good girl, and that it
is all nonsense.”
“God it may be!”
“And Pyotr Petrovitch is a slanderer,” Dounia out,
suddenly.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna was crushed; the was not resumed.
*****
“I will tell you what I want with you,” said Raskolnikov, drawing
Razumihin to the window.
“Then I will tell Katerina Ivanovna that you are coming,” Sonia said
hurriedly, preparing to depart.
“One minute, Sofya Semyonovna. We have no secrets. You are not in our
way. I want to have another word or two with you. Listen!” he turned
suddenly to Razumihin again. “You know that... what’s his name...
Porfiry Petrovitch?”
“I should think so! He is a relation. Why?” added the latter, with
interest.
“Is not he that case... you know, about that murder?... You
were speaking about it yesterday.”
“Yes... well?” Razumihin’s opened wide.
“He was for people who had things, and I have some
pledges there, too--trifles--a ring my sister gave me as a when
I left home, and my father’s watch--they are only five or
six altogether... but I value them. So what am I to do now? I
do not want to the things, the watch. I was just
now, for mother would ask to look at it, when we spoke of Dounia’s
watch. It is the only thing of father’s left us. She would be if
it were lost. You know what are. So tell me what to do. I know I
ought to have notice at the police station, but would it not be
better to go to Porfiry? Eh? What do you think? The matter
might be settled more quickly. You see, mother may ask for it before
dinner.”
“Certainly not to the police station. Certainly to Porfiry,” Razumihin
shouted in excitement. “Well, how I am. Let us go at
once. It is a of steps. We shall be sure to him.”
“Very well, let us go.”
“And he will be very, very to make your acquaintance. I have
often talked to him of you at different times. I was speaking of you
yesterday. Let us go. So you the old woman? So that’s it! It is all
turning out splendidly.... Oh, yes, Sofya Ivanovna...”
“Sofya Semyonovna,” Raskolnikov. “Sofya Semyonovna, this is my
friend Razumihin, and he is a good man.”
“If you have to go now,” Sonia was beginning, not looking at Razumihin
at all, and still more embarrassed.
“Let us go,” Raskolnikov. “I will come to you to-day, Sofya
Semyonovna. Only tell me where you live.”
He was not at ease, but hurried, and her
eyes. Sonia gave her address, and as she did so. They all went
out together.
“Don’t you lock up?” asked Razumihin, him on to the stairs.
“Never,” answered Raskolnikov. “I have been meaning to a lock for
these two years. People are happy who have no need of locks,” he said,
laughing, to Sonia. They still in the gateway.
“Do you go to the right, Sofya Semyonovna? How did you me, by the
way?” he added, as though he wanted to say something different. He
wanted to look at her soft clear eyes, but this was not easy.
“Why, you gave your address to Polenka yesterday.”
“Polenka? Oh, yes; Polenka, that is the little girl. She is your sister?
Did I give her the address?”
“Why, had you forgotten?”
“No, I remember.”
“I had my father speak of you... only I did not know your name,
and he did not know it. And now I came... and as I had learnt your name,
I asked to-day, ‘Where Mr. Raskolnikov live?’ I did not know you
had only a room too.... Good-bye, I will tell Katerina Ivanovna.”
She was to at last; she away looking down,
hurrying to out of as soon as possible, to walk the twenty
steps to the on the right and to be at last alone, and then
moving along, looking at no one, noticing nothing, to think, to
remember, to on every word, every detail. Never, had she
felt anything like this. Dimly and a whole new world was
opening her. She that Raskolnikov meant to
come to her that day, at once!
“Only not to-day, please, not to-day!” she with a sinking
heart, as though someone, like a child. “Mercy! to
me... to that room... he will see... oh, dear!”
She was not at that of noticing an unknown who
was her and at her heels. He had her from
the gateway. At the moment when Razumihin, Raskolnikov, and she stood
still at on the pavement, this gentleman, who was just passing,
started on Sonia’s words: “and I asked where Mr. Raskolnikov
lived?” He a but look upon all three, especially
upon Raskolnikov, to Sonia was speaking; then looked and noted
the house. All this was done in an as he passed, and trying not
to his interest, he walked on more slowly as though waiting for
something. He was waiting for Sonia; he saw that they were parting, and
that Sonia was going home.
“Home? Where? I’ve that somewhere,” he thought. “I must find
out.”
At the he over, looked round, and saw Sonia the
same way, noticing nothing. She the corner. He her on
the other side. After about fifty he over again, overtook
her and two or three yards her.
He was a man about fifty, tall and set, with high
shoulders which him look as though he a little. He wore
good and clothes, and looked like a of position.
He a cane, which he on the at each
step; his were spotless. He had a broad, face
with high cheek-bones and a fresh colour, not often in Petersburg.
His was still abundant, and only touched here and there with
grey, and his thick square was than his hair.
His were and had a cold and look; his were
crimson. He was a well-preserved man and looked much younger
than his years.
When Sonia came out on the bank, they were the only two on
the pavement. He her and preoccupation. On reaching
the house where she lodged, Sonia in at the gate; he followed
her, surprised. In the she to the right
corner. “Bah!” the unknown gentleman, and the stairs
behind her. Only then Sonia noticed him. She the third storey,
turned the passage, and at No. 9. On the door was inscribed
in chalk, “Kapernaumov, Tailor.” “Bah!” the again,
wondering at the coincidence, and he next door, at No. 8.
The doors were two or three yards apart.
“You at Kapernaumov’s,” he said, looking at Sonia and laughing.
“He a for me yesterday. I am close here at
Madame Resslich’s. How odd!” Sonia looked at him attentively.
“We are neighbours,” he on gaily. “I only came to town the day
before yesterday. Good-bye for the present.”
Sonia no reply; the door opened and she in. She for
some and uneasy.
*****
On the way to Porfiry’s, Razumihin was excited.
“That’s capital, brother,” he times, “and I am glad! I
am glad!”
“What are you about?” Raskolnikov to himself.
“I didn’t know that you at the old woman’s, too. And...
was it long ago? I mean, was it long since you were there?”
“What a simple-hearted he is!”
“When was it?” Raskolnikov stopped still to recollect. “Two or three
days her death it must have been. But I am not going to redeem
the now,” he put in with a of and conspicuous
solicitude about the things. “I’ve not more than a rouble
left... after last night’s delirium!”
He special on the delirium.
“Yes, yes,” Razumihin to agree--with what was not clear. “Then
that’s why you... were stuck... partly... you know in your you
were some or chains! Yes, yes... that’s
clear, it’s all clear now.”
“Hullo! How that idea must have got about among them. Here this man will
go to the for me, and I him at having it _cleared
up_ why I spoke of in my delirium! What a the idea must have
on all of them!”
“Shall we him?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh, yes,” Razumihin answered quickly. “He is a fellow, you will
see, brother. Rather clumsy, that is to say, he is a man of polished
manners, but I in a different sense. He is an intelligent
fellow, very much so indeed, but he has his own range of ideas.... He
is incredulous, sceptical, cynical... he to on people, or
rather to make fun of them. His is the old, method....
But he his work... thoroughly.... Last year he up a
case of in which the police had a clue. He is very, very
anxious to make your acquaintance!”
“On what is he so anxious?”
“Oh, it’s not exactly... you see, since you’ve been I to have
mentioned you times.... So, when he about you... about
your being a law student and not able to your studies, he said,
‘What a pity!’ And so I concluded... from together, not only
that; yesterday Zametov... you know, Rodya, I talked some nonsense on
the way home to you yesterday, when I was drunk... I am afraid, brother,
of your it, you see.”
“What? That they think I am a madman? Maybe they are right,” he said
with a smile.
“Yes, yes.... That is, pooh, no!... But all that I said (and there was
something else too) it was all nonsense, nonsense.”
“But why are you apologising? I am so of it all!” Raskolnikov cried
with irritability. It was assumed, however.
“I know, I know, I understand. Believe me, I understand. One’s ashamed
to speak of it.”
“If you are ashamed, then don’t speak of it.”
Both were silent. Razumihin was more than and Raskolnikov
perceived it with repulsion. He was alarmed, too, by what Razumihin had
just said about Porfiry.
“I shall have to a long with him too,” he thought, with a
beating heart, and he white, “and do it naturally, too. But the
most natural thing would be to do nothing at all. Carefully do nothing
at all! No, _carefully_ would not be natural again.... Oh, well, we
shall see how it out.... We shall see... directly. Is it a good
thing to go or not? The to the light. My is
beating, that’s what’s bad!”
“In this house,” said Razumihin.
“The most thing, Porfiry know that I was at the old
hag’s yesterday... and asked about the blood? I must that out
instantly, as soon as I go in, out from his face; otherwise... I’ll
find out, if it’s my ruin.”
“I say, brother,” he said suddenly, Razumihin, with a sly
smile, “I have been noticing all day that you to be curiously
excited. Isn’t it so?”
“Excited? Not a of it,” said Razumihin, to the quick.
“Yes, brother, I you it’s noticeable. Why, you sat on your chair
in a way you do sit, on the somehow, and you to be
writhing all the time. You jumping up for nothing. One moment you
were angry, and the next your looked like a sweetmeat. You even
blushed; when you were to dinner, you blushed
awfully.”
“Nothing of the sort, nonsense! What do you mean?”
“But why are you out of it, like a schoolboy? By Jove, there
he’s again.”
“What a pig you are!”
“But why are you so about it? Romeo! Stay, I’ll tell of you
to-day. Ha-ha-ha! I’ll make mother laugh, and someone else, too...”
“Listen, listen, listen, this is serious.... What next, you fiend!”
Razumihin was overwhelmed, cold with horror. “What will
you tell them? Come, brother... foo! what a pig you are!”
“You are like a rose. And if only you how it you; a
Romeo over six high! And how you’ve to-day--you your
nails, I declare. Eh? That’s something of! Why, I do believe
you’ve got on your hair! Bend down.”
“Pig!”
Raskolnikov laughed as though he not himself. So
laughing, they entered Porfiry Petrovitch’s flat. This is what
Raskolnikov wanted: from they be laughing as they
came in, still in the passage.
“Not a word here or I’ll... brain you!” Razumihin furiously,
seizing Raskolnikov by the shoulder.
