Crime and Punishment
deserving of contempt, you refuse to take a humane view of a fellow
creature. You don’t know what a character she is! I am only sorry that
of late she has quite given up reading and borrowing books. I used
to lend them to her. I am sorry, too, that with all the energy and
resolution in protesting--which she has already shown once--she has
little self-reliance, little, so to say, independence, so as to
break free from certain prejudices and certain foolish ideas. Yet she
thoroughly understands some questions, for instance about kissing of
hands, that is, that it’s an insult to a woman for a man to kiss her
hand, because it’s a sign of inequality. We had a debate about it and
I described it to her. She listened attentively to an account of the
workmen’s associations in France, too. Now I am explaining the question
of coming into the room in the future society.”
“And what’s that, pray?”
“We had a debate lately on the question: Has a member of the community
the right to enter another member’s room, whether man or woman, at any
time... and we decided that he has!”
“It might be at an inconvenient moment, he-he!”
Lebeziatnikov was really angry.
“You are always thinking of something unpleasant,” he cried with
aversion. “Tfoo! How vexed I am that when I was expounding our system, I
referred prematurely to the question of personal privacy! It’s always
a stumbling-block to people like you, they turn it into ridicule before
they understand it. And how proud they are of it, too! Tfoo! I’ve often
maintained that that question should not be approached by a novice till
he has a firm faith in the system. And tell me, please, what do you
find so shameful even in cesspools? I should be the first to be ready
to clean out any cesspool you like. And it’s not a question of
self-sacrifice, it’s simply work, honourable, useful work which is
as good as any other and much better than the work of a Raphael and a
Pushkin, because it is more useful.”
“And more honourable, more honourable, he-he-he!”
“What do you mean by ‘more honourable’? I don’t understand such
expressions to describe human activity. ‘More honourable,’ ‘nobler’--all
those are old-fashioned prejudices which I reject. Everything which is
_of use_ to mankind is honourable. I only understand one word: _useful_!
You can snigger as much as you like, but that’s so!”
Pyotr Petrovitch laughed heartily. He had finished counting the money
and was putting it away. But some of the notes he left on the table. The
“cesspool question” had already been a subject of dispute between them.
What was absurd was that it made Lebeziatnikov really angry, while it
amused Luzhin and at that moment he particularly wanted to anger his
young friend.
“It’s your ill-luck yesterday that makes you so ill-humoured and
annoying,” blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who in spite of his “independence”
and his “protests” did not venture to oppose Pyotr Petrovitch and still
behaved to him with some of the respect habitual in earlier years.
“You’d better tell me this,” Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted with haughty
displeasure, “can you... or rather are you really friendly enough with
that young person to ask her to step in here for a minute? I think
they’ve all come back from the cemetery... I heard the sound of
steps... I want to see her, that young person.”
“What for?” Lebeziatnikov asked with surprise.
“Oh, I want to. I am leaving here to-day or to-morrow and therefore I
wanted to speak to her about... However, you may be present during the
interview. It’s better you should be, indeed. For there’s no knowing
what you might imagine.”
“I shan’t imagine anything. I only asked and, if you’ve anything to say
to her, nothing is easier than to call her in. I’ll go directly and you
may be sure I won’t be in your way.”
Five minutes later Lebeziatnikov came in with Sonia. She came in very
much surprised and overcome with shyness as usual. She was always shy in
such circumstances and was always afraid of new people, she had been as
a child and was even more so now.... Pyotr Petrovitch met her “politely
and affably,” but with a certain shade of bantering familiarity which in
his opinion was suitable for a man of his respectability and weight
in dealing with a creature so young and so _interesting_ as she. He
hastened to “reassure” her and made her sit down facing him at the
table. Sonia sat down, looked about her--at Lebeziatnikov, at the notes
lying on the table and then again at Pyotr Petrovitch and her eyes
remained riveted on him. Lebeziatnikov was moving to the door. Pyotr
Petrovitch signed to Sonia to remain seated and stopped Lebeziatnikov.
“Is Raskolnikov in there? Has he come?” he asked him in a whisper.
“Raskolnikov? Yes. Why? Yes, he is there. I saw him just come in....
Why?”
“Well, I particularly beg you to remain here with us and not to leave
me alone with this... young woman. I only want a few words with her,
but God knows what they may make of it. I shouldn’t like Raskolnikov to
repeat anything.... You understand what I mean?”
“I understand!” Lebeziatnikov saw the point. “Yes, you are right.... Of
course, I am convinced personally that you have no reason to be uneasy,
but... still, you are right. Certainly I’ll stay. I’ll stand here at the
window and not be in your way... I think you are right...”
Pyotr Petrovitch returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked
attentively at her and assumed an extremely dignified, even severe
expression, as much as to say, “don’t you make any mistake, madam.”
Sonia was overwhelmed with embarrassment.
“In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, will you make my excuses to your
respected mamma.... That’s right, isn’t it? Katerina Ivanovna stands
in the place of a mother to you?” Pyotr Petrovitch began with great
dignity, though affably.
It was evident that his intentions were friendly.
“Quite so, yes; the place of a mother,” Sonia answered, timidly and
hurriedly.
“Then will you make my apologies to her? Through inevitable
circumstances I am forced to be absent and shall not be at the dinner in
spite of your mamma’s kind invitation.”
“Yes... I’ll tell her... at once.”
And Sonia hastily jumped up from her seat.
“Wait, that’s not all,” Pyotr Petrovitch detained her, smiling at her
simplicity and ignorance of good manners, “and you know me little, my
dear Sofya Semyonovna, if you suppose I would have ventured to trouble
a person like you for a matter of so little consequence affecting myself
only. I have another object.”
Sonia sat down hurriedly. Her eyes rested again for an instant on the
grey-and-rainbow-coloured notes that remained on the table, but she
quickly looked away and fixed her eyes on Pyotr Petrovitch. She felt it
horribly indecorous, especially for _her_, to look at another person’s
money. She stared at the gold eye-glass which Pyotr Petrovitch held
in his left hand and at the massive and extremely handsome ring with a
yellow stone on his middle finger. But suddenly she looked away and, not
knowing where to turn, ended by staring Pyotr Petrovitch again straight
in the face. After a pause of still greater dignity he continued.
“I chanced yesterday in passing to exchange a couple of words with
Katerina Ivanovna, poor woman. That was sufficient to enable me to
ascertain that she is in a position--preternatural, if one may so
express it.”
“Yes... preternatural...” Sonia hurriedly assented.
“Or it would be simpler and more comprehensible to say, ill.”
“Yes, simpler and more comprehen... yes, ill.”
“Quite so. So then from a feeling of humanity and so to speak
compassion, I should be glad to be of service to her in any way,
foreseeing her unfortunate position. I believe the whole of this
poverty-stricken family depends now entirely on you?”
“Allow me to ask,” Sonia rose to her feet, “did you say something to her
yesterday of the possibility of a pension? Because she told me you had
undertaken to get her one. Was that true?”
“Not in the slightest, and indeed it’s an absurdity! I merely hinted at
her obtaining temporary assistance as the widow of an official who had
died in the service--if only she has patronage... but apparently your
late parent had not served his full term and had not indeed been in the
service at all of late. In fact, if there could be any hope, it would be
very ephemeral, because there would be no claim for assistance in
that case, far from it.... And she is dreaming of a pension already,
he-he-he!... A go-ahead lady!”
“Yes, she is. For she is credulous and good-hearted, and she believes
everything from the goodness of her heart and... and... and she is like
that... yes... You must excuse her,” said Sonia, and again she got up to
go.
“But you haven’t heard what I have to say.”
“No, I haven’t heard,” muttered Sonia.
“Then sit down.” She was terribly confused; she sat down again a third
time.
“Seeing her position with her unfortunate little ones, I should be glad,
as I have said before, so far as lies in my power, to be of service,
that is, so far as is in my power, not more. One might for instance get
up a subscription for her, or a lottery, something of the sort, such as
is always arranged in such cases by friends or even outsiders desirous
of assisting people. It was of that I intended to speak to you; it might
be done.”
“Yes, yes... God will repay you for it,” faltered Sonia, gazing intently
at Pyotr Petrovitch.
“It might be, but we will talk of it later. We might begin it to-day, we
will talk it over this evening and lay the foundation so to speak. Come
to me at seven o’clock. Mr. Lebeziatnikov, I hope, will assist us. But
there is one circumstance of which I ought to warn you beforehand and
for which I venture to trouble you, Sofya Semyonovna, to come here. In
my opinion money cannot be, indeed it’s unsafe to put it into Katerina
Ivanovna’s own hands. The dinner to-day is a proof of that. Though she
has not, so to speak, a crust of bread for to-morrow and... well, boots
or shoes, or anything; she has bought to-day Jamaica rum, and even,
I believe, Madeira and... and coffee. I saw it as I passed through.
To-morrow it will all fall upon you again, they won’t have a crust of
bread. It’s absurd, really, and so, to my thinking, a subscription ought
to be raised so that the unhappy widow should not know of the money, but
only you, for instance. Am I right?”
“I don’t know... this is only to-day, once in her life.... She was
so anxious to do honour, to celebrate the memory.... And she is very
sensible... but just as you think and I shall be very, very... they will
all be... and God will reward... and the orphans...”
Sonia burst into tears.
“Very well, then, keep it in mind; and now will you accept for the
benefit of your relation the small sum that I am able to spare, from me
personally. I am very anxious that my name should not be mentioned in
connection with it. Here... having so to speak anxieties of my own, I
cannot do more...”
And Pyotr Petrovitch held out to Sonia a ten-rouble note carefully
unfolded. Sonia took it, flushed crimson, jumped up, muttered something
and began taking leave. Pyotr Petrovitch accompanied her ceremoniously
to the door. She got out of the room at last, agitated and distressed,
and returned to Katerina Ivanovna, overwhelmed with confusion.
All this time Lebeziatnikov had stood at the window or walked about the
room, anxious not to interrupt the conversation; when Sonia had gone he
walked up to Pyotr Petrovitch and solemnly held out his hand.
“I heard and _saw_ everything,” he said, laying stress on the last verb.
“That is honourable, I mean to say, it’s humane! You wanted to avoid
gratitude, I saw! And although I cannot, I confess, in principle
sympathise with private charity, for it not only fails to eradicate the