Crime and Punishment
Razumihin could not sit still on his chair.
“Aren’t you ashamed now, sister?” asked Raskolnikov.
“I am ashamed, Rodya,” said Dounia. “Pyotr Petrovitch, go away,” she
turned to him, white with anger.
Pyotr Petrovitch had apparently not at all expected such a conclusion.
He had too much confidence in himself, in his power and in the
helplessness of his victims. He could not believe it even now. He turned
pale, and his lips quivered.
“Avdotya Romanovna, if I go out of this door now, after such a
dismissal, then, you may reckon on it, I will never come back. Consider
what you are doing. My word is not to be shaken.”
“What insolence!” cried Dounia, springing up from her seat. “I don’t
want you to come back again.”
“What! So that’s how it stands!” cried Luzhin, utterly unable to the
last moment to believe in the rupture and so completely thrown out of
his reckoning now. “So that’s how it stands! But do you know, Avdotya
Romanovna, that I might protest?”
“What right have you to speak to her like that?” Pulcheria Alexandrovna
intervened hotly. “And what can you protest about? What rights have you?
Am I to give my Dounia to a man like you? Go away, leave us altogether!
We are to blame for having agreed to a wrong action, and I above
all....”
“But you have bound me, Pulcheria Alexandrovna,” Luzhin stormed in a
frenzy, “by your promise, and now you deny it and... besides... I have
been led on account of that into expenses....”
This last complaint was so characteristic of Pyotr Petrovitch, that
Raskolnikov, pale with anger and with the effort of restraining it,
could not help breaking into laughter. But Pulcheria Alexandrovna was
furious.
“Expenses? What expenses? Are you speaking of our trunk? But the
conductor brought it for nothing for you. Mercy on us, we have bound
you! What are you thinking about, Pyotr Petrovitch, it was you bound us,
hand and foot, not we!”
“Enough, mother, no more please,” Avdotya Romanovna implored. “Pyotr
Petrovitch, do be kind and go!”
“I am going, but one last word,” he said, quite unable to control
himself. “Your mamma seems to have entirely forgotten that I made up my
mind to take you, so to speak, after the gossip of the town had spread
all over the district in regard to your reputation. Disregarding public
opinion for your sake and reinstating your reputation, I certainly
might very well reckon on a fitting return, and might indeed look for
gratitude on your part. And my eyes have only now been opened! I see
myself that I may have acted very, very recklessly in disregarding the
universal verdict....”
“Does the fellow want his head smashed?” cried Razumihin, jumping up.
“You are a mean and spiteful man!” cried Dounia.
“Not a word! Not a movement!” cried Raskolnikov, holding Razumihin back;
then going close up to Luzhin, “Kindly leave the room!” he said quietly
and distinctly, “and not a word more or...”
Pyotr Petrovitch gazed at him for some seconds with a pale face that
worked with anger, then he turned, went out, and rarely has any man
carried away in his heart such vindictive hatred as he felt against
Raskolnikov. Him, and him alone, he blamed for everything. It is
noteworthy that as he went downstairs he still imagined that his case
was perhaps not utterly lost, and that, so far as the ladies were
concerned, all might “very well indeed” be set right again.
CHAPTER III
The fact was that up to the last moment he had never expected such an
ending; he had been overbearing to the last degree, never dreaming that
two destitute and defenceless women could escape from his control. This
conviction was strengthened by his vanity and conceit, a conceit to
the point of fatuity. Pyotr Petrovitch, who had made his way up from
insignificance, was morbidly given to self-admiration, had the highest
opinion of his intelligence and capacities, and sometimes even gloated
in solitude over his image in the glass. But what he loved and valued
above all was the money he had amassed by his labour, and by all sorts
of devices: that money made him the equal of all who had been his
superiors.
When he had bitterly reminded Dounia that he had decided to take her in
spite of evil report, Pyotr Petrovitch had spoken with perfect sincerity
and had, indeed, felt genuinely indignant at such “black ingratitude.”
And yet, when he made Dounia his offer, he was fully aware of the
groundlessness of all the gossip. The story had been everywhere
contradicted by Marfa Petrovna, and was by then disbelieved by all the
townspeople, who were warm in Dounia’s defence. And he would not have
denied that he knew all that at the time. Yet he still thought highly
of his own resolution in lifting Dounia to his level and regarded it as
something heroic. In speaking of it to Dounia, he had let out the secret
feeling he cherished and admired, and he could not understand that
others should fail to admire it too. He had called on Raskolnikov with
the feelings of a benefactor who is about to reap the fruits of his good
deeds and to hear agreeable flattery. And as he went downstairs now, he
considered himself most undeservedly injured and unrecognised.
Dounia was simply essential to him; to do without her was unthinkable.
For many years he had had voluptuous dreams of marriage, but he had
gone on waiting and amassing money. He brooded with relish, in profound
secret, over the image of a girl--virtuous, poor (she must be poor),
very young, very pretty, of good birth and education, very timid, one
who had suffered much, and was completely humbled before him, one who
would all her life look on him as her saviour, worship him, admire him
and only him. How many scenes, how many amorous episodes he had imagined
on this seductive and playful theme, when his work was over! And,
behold, the dream of so many years was all but realised; the beauty and
education of Avdotya Romanovna had impressed him; her helpless position
had been a great allurement; in her he had found even more than he
dreamed of. Here was a girl of pride, character, virtue, of education
and breeding superior to his own (he felt that), and this creature would
be slavishly grateful all her life for his heroic condescension, and
would humble herself in the dust before him, and he would have absolute,
unbounded power over her!... Not long before, he had, too, after long
reflection and hesitation, made an important change in his career and
was now entering on a wider circle of business. With this change his
cherished dreams of rising into a higher class of society seemed likely
to be realised.... He was, in fact, determined to try his fortune
in Petersburg. He knew that women could do a very great deal. The
fascination of a charming, virtuous, highly educated woman might make
his way easier, might do wonders in attracting people to him, throwing
an aureole round him, and now everything was in ruins! This sudden
horrible rupture affected him like a clap of thunder; it was like a
hideous joke, an absurdity. He had only been a tiny bit masterful,
had not even time to speak out, had simply made a joke, been carried
away--and it had ended so seriously. And, of course, too, he did love
Dounia in his own way; he already possessed her in his dreams--and all
at once! No! The next day, the very next day, it must all be set right,
smoothed over, settled. Above all he must crush that conceited milksop
who was the cause of it all. With a sick feeling he could not help
recalling Razumihin too, but, he soon reassured himself on that score;
as though a fellow like that could be put on a level with him! The man
he really dreaded in earnest was Svidrigaïlov.... He had, in short, a
great deal to attend to....
*****
“No, I, I am more to blame than anyone!” said Dounia, kissing and
embracing her mother. “I was tempted by his money, but on my honour,
brother, I had no idea he was such a base man. If I had seen through him
before, nothing would have tempted me! Don’t blame me, brother!”
“God has delivered us! God has delivered us!” Pulcheria Alexandrovna
muttered, but half consciously, as though scarcely able to realise what
had happened.
They were all relieved, and in five minutes they were laughing. Only now
and then Dounia turned white and frowned, remembering what had passed.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna was surprised to find that she, too, was glad:
she had only that morning thought rupture with Luzhin a terrible
misfortune. Razumihin was delighted. He did not yet dare to express his
joy fully, but he was in a fever of excitement as though a ton-weight
had fallen off his heart. Now he had the right to devote his life to
them, to serve them.... Anything might happen now! But he felt afraid to
think of further possibilities and dared not let his imagination
range. But Raskolnikov sat still in the same place, almost sullen and
indifferent. Though he had been the most insistent on getting rid of
Luzhin, he seemed now the least concerned at what had happened. Dounia
could not help thinking that he was still angry with her, and Pulcheria
Alexandrovna watched him timidly.
“What did Svidrigaïlov say to you?” said Dounia, approaching him.
“Yes, yes!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
Raskolnikov raised his head.
“He wants to make you a present of ten thousand roubles and he desires
to see you once in my presence.”
“See her! On no account!” cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. “And how dare he
offer her money!”
Then Raskolnikov repeated (rather dryly) his conversation with
Svidrigaïlov, omitting his account of the ghostly visitations of Marfa
Petrovna, wishing to avoid all unnecessary talk.
“What answer did you give him?” asked Dounia.
“At first I said I would not take any message to you. Then he said that
he would do his utmost to obtain an interview with you without my help.
He assured me that his passion for you was a passing infatuation, now he
has no feeling for you. He doesn’t want you to marry Luzhin.... His talk
was altogether rather muddled.”
“How do you explain him to yourself, Rodya? How did he strike you?”
“I must confess I don’t quite understand him. He offers you ten
thousand, and yet says he is not well off. He says he is going away, and
in ten minutes he forgets he has said it. Then he says he is going to be
married and has already fixed on the girl.... No doubt he has a motive,
and probably a bad one. But it’s odd that he should be so clumsy about
it if he had any designs against you.... Of course, I refused this
money on your account, once for all. Altogether, I thought him very
strange.... One might almost think he was mad. But I may be mistaken;
that may only be the part he assumes. The death of Marfa Petrovna seems
to have made a great impression on him.”
“God rest her soul,” exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna. “I shall always,
always pray for her! Where should we be now, Dounia, without this three
thousand! It’s as though it had fallen from heaven! Why, Rodya, this
morning we had only three roubles in our pocket and Dounia and I were
just planning to pawn her watch, so as to avoid borrowing from that man
until he offered help.”
Dounia seemed strangely impressed by Svidrigaïlov’s offer. She still
stood meditating.
“He has got some terrible plan,” she said in a half whisper to herself,
almost shuddering.
Raskolnikov noticed this disproportionate terror.
“I fancy I shall have to see him more than once again,” he said to
Dounia.
“We will watch him! I will track him out!” cried Razumihin, vigorously.
“I won’t lose sight of him. Rodya has given me leave. He said to me
himself just now. ‘Take care of my sister.’ Will you give me leave, too,
Avdotya Romanovna?”
Dounia smiled and held out her hand, but the look of anxiety did not
leave her face. Pulcheria Alexandrovna gazed at her timidly, but the