A period for Raskolnikov: it was as though a had
fallen upon him and him in a from which there
was no escape. Recalling that period long after, he that his
mind had been at times, and that it had so, with
intervals, till the final catastrophe. He was that he had been
mistaken about many at that time, for as to the date
of events. Anyway, when he later on to piece his
recollections together, he learnt a great about himself from what
other people told him. He had mixed up and had explained
events as to which only in his imagination. At
times he was a to of uneasiness, sometimes
to panic. But he remembered, too, moments, hours, whole days,
of complete apathy, which came upon him as a from his previous
terror and might be with the insensibility, sometimes
seen in the dying. He to be trying in that stage to escape
from a full and clear of his position. Certain essential
facts which were particularly irksome
to him. How he would have been to be free from some cares, the
neglect of which would have him with complete, inevitable
ruin.
He was particularly about Svidrigaïlov, he might be said to be
permanently of Svidrigaïlov. From the time of Svidrigaïlov’s
too and in Sonia’s room at the moment of
Katerina Ivanovna’s death, the normal of his mind to
break down. But although this new him uneasiness,
Raskolnikov was in no for an of it. At times, finding
himself in a and part of the town, in some wretched
eating-house, alone in thought, how he had
come there, he of Svidrigaïlov. He recognised
suddenly, clearly, and with that he ought at once to come to an
understanding with that man and to make what terms he could. Walking
outside the city gates one day, he positively that they had
fixed a meeting there, that he was waiting for Svidrigaïlov. Another
time he up on the ground under some bushes
and not at how he had come there.
But the two or three days after Katerina Ivanovna’s death, he
had two or three times met Svidrigaïlov at Sonia’s lodging, where he
had gone for a moment. They a and no
reference to the subject, as though they were not
to speak of it for a time.
Katerina Ivanovna’s was still in the coffin, Svidrigaïlov was
busy making for the funeral. Sonia too was very busy. At
their last meeting Svidrigaïlov Raskolnikov that he had made
an arrangement, and a very satisfactory one, for Katerina Ivanovna’s
children; that he had, through connections, succeeded in getting
hold of by help the three be at
once in very institutions; that the money he had settled
on them had been of great assistance, as it is much to place
orphans with some property than ones. He said something
too about Sonia and promised to come himself in a day or two to see
Raskolnikov, that “he would like to with him, that
there were they must talk over....”
This took place in the passage on the stairs. Svidrigaïlov
looked at Raskolnikov and suddenly, after a pause,
dropping his voice, asked: “But how is it, Rodion Romanovitch; you
don’t yourself? You look and you listen, but you don’t to
understand. Cheer up! We’ll talk over; I am only sorry, I’ve
so much to do of my own and other people’s. Ah, Rodion
Romanovitch,” he added suddenly, “what all men need is fresh air, fresh
air... more than anything!”
He moved to one to make way for the and server, who
were up the stairs. They had come for the service. By
Svidrigaïlov’s orders it was twice a day punctually. Svidrigaïlov
went his way. Raskolnikov still a moment, thought, and followed
the into Sonia’s room. He at the door. They quietly,
slowly and the service. From his the
thought of death and the presence of death had something oppressive
and awful; and it was long since he had the requiem
service. And there was something else here as well, too and
disturbing. He looked at the children: they were all by the
coffin; Polenka was weeping. Behind them Sonia prayed, and, as it
were, weeping.
“These last two days she hasn’t said a word to me, she hasn’t at
me,” Raskolnikov suddenly. The was in the room;
the rose in clouds; the read, “Give rest, oh Lord....”
Raskolnikov all through the service. As he them and
took his leave, the looked strangely. After the service,
Raskolnikov up to Sonia. She took his hands and let her
head on his shoulder. This bewildered
Raskolnikov. It to him that there was no of
repugnance, no of disgust, no in her hand. It was the
furthest limit of self-abnegation, at least so he it.
Sonia said nothing. Raskolnikov pressed her hand and out. He felt
very miserable. If it had been possible to to some solitude, he
would have himself lucky, if he had to his whole life
there. But although he had almost always been by himself of late, he had
never been able to alone. Sometimes he walked out of the town on to
the high road, once he had a little wood, but the lonelier
the place was, the more he to be aware of an presence near
him. It did not him, but him, so that he
made to return to the town, to with the crowd, to enter
restaurants and taverns, to walk in thoroughfares. There he felt
easier and more solitary. One day at he sat for an hour
listening to in a and he that he positively
enjoyed it. But at last he had the same again,
as though his him. “Here I to singing,
is that what I ought to be doing?” he thought. Yet he at once
that that was not the only of his uneasiness; there was something
requiring decision, but it was something he not clearly
understand or put into words. It was a tangle. “No, the
struggle again! Better Porfiry again... or Svidrigaïlov.... Better some
challenge again... some attack. Yes, yes!” he thought. He out of
the and away almost at a run. The of Dounia and
his mother him almost to a panic. That night he woke
up among some in Krestovsky Island, trembling
all over with fever; he walked home, and it was early when he
arrived. After some hours’ sleep the left him, but he up
late, two o’clock in the afternoon.
He that Katerina Ivanovna’s had been for that
day, and was that he was not present at it. Nastasya him
some food; he ate and with appetite, almost with greediness. His
head was and he was than he had been for the last three
days. He a wonder at his previous of panic.
The door opened and Razumihin came in.
“Ah, he’s eating, then he’s not ill,” said Razumihin. He took a chair
and sat at the table opposite Raskolnikov.
He was and did not attempt to it. He spoke with evident
annoyance, but without or his voice. He looked as though
he had some special determination.
“Listen,” he resolutely. “As as I am concerned, you may all go
to hell, but from what I see, it’s clear to me that I can’t make or
tail of it; don’t think I’ve come to ask you questions. I don’t
want to know, it! If you telling me your secrets, I say
I shouldn’t to listen, I should go away cursing. I have only come
to out once for all it’s a that you are mad? There is
a in the air that you are or very nearly so. I admit
I’ve been to that opinion myself, from your stupid,
repulsive and actions, and from your behavior
to your mother and sister. Only a or a them
as you have; so you must be mad.”
“When did you see them last?”
“Just now. Haven’t you them since then? What have you been doing
with yourself? Tell me, please. I’ve been to you three times already.
Your mother has been since yesterday. She had up
her mind to come to you; Avdotya Romanovna to prevent her; she
wouldn’t a word. ‘If he is ill, if his mind is way, who can
look after him like his mother?’ she said. We all came here together, we
couldn’t let her come alone all the way. We her to be calm.
We came in, you weren’t here; she sat down, and ten minutes,
while we waiting in silence. She got up and said: ‘If he’s
gone out, that is, if he is well, and has his mother, it’s
humiliating and for his mother to at his door for
kindness.’ She returned home and took to her bed; now she is in a fever.
‘I see,’ she said, ‘that he has time for _his girl_.’ She means by _your
girl_ Sofya Semyonovna, your or your mistress, I don’t know. I
went at once to Sofya Semyonovna’s, for I wanted to know what was going
on. I looked round, I saw the coffin, the children crying, and
Sofya Semyonovna trying them on dresses. No of you. I
apologised, came away, and reported to Avdotya Romanovna. So that’s all
nonsense and you haven’t got a girl; the most likely thing is that you
are mad. But here you sit, as though you’d not had
a bite for three days. Though as as that goes, eat too, but
though you have not said a word to me yet... you are not mad! That I’d
swear! Above all, you are not mad! So you may go to hell, all of you,
for there’s some mystery, some about it, and I don’t to
worry my over your secrets. So I’ve come to at you,”
he finished, up, “to my mind. And I know what to do
now.”
“What do you to do now?”
“What is it of yours what I to do?”
“You are going in for a bout.”
“How... how did you know?”
“Why, it’s plain.”
Razumihin paused for a minute.
“You always have been a very person and you’ve been mad,
never,” he with warmth. “You’re right: I shall drink.
Good-bye!”
And he moved to go out.
“I was talking with my sister--the day yesterday, I think it
was--about you, Razumihin.”
“About me! But... where can you have her the day yesterday?”
Razumihin stopped and a little pale.
One see that his was slowly and violently.
“She came here by herself, sat there and talked to me.”
“She did!”
“Yes.”
“What did you say to her... I mean, about me?”
“I told her you were a very good, honest, and man. I didn’t
tell her you love her, she that herself.”
“She that herself?”
“Well, it’s plain. Wherever I might go, to me,
you would to look after them. I, so to speak, give them into your
keeping, Razumihin. I say this I know well how you love
her, and am of the purity of your heart. I know that she too
may love you and love you already. Now decide for yourself,
as you know best, you need go in for a or not.”
“Rodya! You see... well.... Ach, it! But where do you to go?
Of course, if it’s all a secret, mind.... But I... I shall find
out the secret... and I am sure that it must be some nonsense
and that you’ve it all up. Anyway you are a fellow, a
capital fellow!...”
“That was just what I wanted to add, only you interrupted, that that was
a very good of yours not to out these secrets. Leave it to
time, don’t worry about it. You’ll know it all in time when it must be.
Yesterday a man said to me that what a man needs is fresh air, fresh
air, fresh air. I to go to him directly to out what he meant
by that.”
Razumihin in and excitement, making a silent
conclusion.
“He’s a political conspirator! He must be. And he’s on the of some
desperate step, that’s certain. It can only be that! And... and Dounia
knows,” he suddenly.
“So Avdotya Romanovna comes to see you,” he said, each
syllable, “and you’re going to see a man who says we need more air, and
so of that letter... that too must have something to do with it,”
he to himself.
“What letter?”
“She got a to-day. It her very much--very much indeed. Too
much so. I speaking of you, she me not to. Then... then
she said that we should very soon have to part... then she began
warmly me for something; then she to her room and locked
herself in.”
“She got a letter?” Raskolnikov asked thoughtfully.
“Yes, and you didn’t know? hm...”
They were silent.
“Good-bye, Rodion. There was a time, brother, when I.... Never mind,
good-bye. You see, there was a time.... Well, good-bye! I must be off
too. I am not going to drink. There’s no need now.... That’s all stuff!”
He out; but when he had almost closed the door him, he
suddenly opened it again, and said, looking away:
“Oh, by the way, do you that murder, you know Porfiry’s, that
old woman? Do you know the has been found, he has confessed
and the proofs. It’s one of those very workmen, the painter, only
fancy! Do you I them here? Would you it, all
that of and laughing with his on the stairs
while the and the two were going up, he got up on
purpose to suspicion. The cunning, the presence of mind of the
young dog! One can it; but it’s his own explanation, he
has it all. And what a I was about it! Well, he’s simply
a of and in the of
the lawyers--so there’s nothing much to wonder at, I suppose! Of course
people like that are always possible. And the that he couldn’t keep
up the character, but confessed, makes him to in. But
what a I was! I was on their side!”
“Tell me, please, from did you that, and why it interest
you so?” Raskolnikov asked with agitation.
“What next? You ask me why it me!... Well, I it from
Porfiry, among others... It was from him I almost all about it.”
“From Porfiry?”
“From Porfiry.”
“What... what did he say?” Raskolnikov asked in dismay.
“He gave me a of it. Psychologically, after his
fashion.”
“He it? Explained it himself?”
“Yes, yes; good-bye. I’ll tell you all about it another time, but now
I’m busy. There was a time when I fancied... But no matter, another
time!... What need is there for me to drink now? You have me drunk
without wine. I am drunk, Rodya! Good-bye, I’m going. I’ll come again
very soon.”
He out.
“He’s a political conspirator, there’s not a about it,” Razumihin
decided, as he slowly the stairs. “And he’s his sister
in; that’s quite, in with Avdotya Romanovna’s character.
There are them!... She at it too... So many of
her words.... and hints... that meaning! And how else can all this
tangle be explained? Hm! And I was almost thinking... Good heavens,
what I thought! Yes, I took of my and I him! It was
his doing, under the lamp in the that day. Pfoo! What a crude,
nasty, idea on my part! Nikolay is a brick, for confessing.... And
how clear it all is now! His then, all his actions...
before this, in the university, how he used to be, how gloomy....
But what’s the meaning now of that letter? There’s something in that,
too, perhaps. Whom was it from? I suspect...! No, I must out!”
He of Dounia, all he had and his throbbed,
and he into a run.
As soon as Razumihin out, Raskolnikov got up, to the window,
walked into one and then into another, as though the
smallness of his room, and sat again on the sofa. He felt, so to
speak, renewed; again the struggle, so a means of had come.
“Yes, a means of had come! It had been too stifling, too
cramping, the had been too agonising. A had come upon
him at times. From the moment of the with Nikolay at Porfiry’s he
had been suffocating, in without of escape. After Nikolay’s
confession, on that very day had come the with Sonia; his
behaviour and his last had been anything he
could have beforehand; he had feebler, and
fundamentally! And he had at the time with Sonia, he had agreed
in his he not go on alone with such a thing on his
mind!
“And Svidrigaïlov was a riddle... He him, that was true, but
somehow not on the same point. He might still have a to come
with Svidrigaïlov. Svidrigaïlov, too, might be a means of escape; but
Porfiry was a different matter.
“And so Porfiry himself had it to Razumihin, had it
_psychologically_. He had in his again!
Porfiry? But to think that Porfiry should for one moment that
Nikolay was guilty, after what had passed them Nikolay’s
appearance, after that tête-à-tête interview, which have only
_one_ explanation? (During those days Raskolnikov had often recalled
passages in that with Porfiry; he not to let his mind
rest on it.) Such words, such had passed them, they
had such glances, had been said in such a and had
reached such a pass, that Nikolay, Porfiry had through at the
first word, at the gesture, not have his conviction.
“And to think that Razumihin had to suspect! The in the
corridor under the lamp had produced its then. He had to
Porfiry.... But what had the to him like that?
What had been his object in Razumihin off with Nikolay? He must
have some plan; there was some design, but what was it? It was true that
a long time had passed since that morning--too long a time--and no sight
nor of Porfiry. Well, that was a sign....”
Raskolnikov took his cap and out of the room, still pondering. It
was the time for a long while that he had clear in his mind,
at least. “I must settle Svidrigaïlov,” he thought, “and as soon as
possible; he, too, to be waiting for me to come to him of my own
accord.” And at that moment there was such a of in his
weary that he might have killed either of those two--Porfiry or
Svidrigaïlov. At least he that he would be of doing it
later, if not now.
“We shall see, we shall see,” he to himself.
But no sooner had he opened the door than he upon Porfiry
himself in the passage. He was in to see him. Raskolnikov was
dumbfounded for a minute, but only for one minute. Strange to say, he
was not very much at Porfiry and of
him. He was startled, but was quickly, instantly, on his guard.
“Perhaps this will the end? But how Porfiry have approached
so quietly, like a cat, so that he had nothing? Could he have been
listening at the door?”
“You didn’t a visitor, Rodion Romanovitch,” Porfiry explained,
laughing. “I’ve been meaning to look in a long time; I was by
and why not go in for five minutes. Are you going out? I won’t
keep you long. Just let me have one cigarette.”
“Sit down, Porfiry Petrovitch, down.” Raskolnikov gave his visitor
a seat with so pleased and an that he would have
marvelled at himself, if he have it.
The last moment had come, the last had to be drained! So a man
will sometimes go through an hour of terror with a brigand,
yet when the knife is at his at last, he no fear.
Raskolnikov seated himself directly Porfiry, and looked at him
without flinching. Porfiry up his and a
cigarette.
“Speak, speak,” as though it would from Raskolnikov’s
heart. “Come, why don’t you speak?”
