Crime and Punishment
“Well, if you come to that,” Svidrigaïlov answered, scrutinising
Raskolnikov with some surprise, “if you come to that, you are a thorough
cynic yourself. You’ve plenty to make you so, anyway. You can understand
a great deal... and you can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely
regret not having had more talk with you, but I shan’t lose sight of
you.... Only wait a bit.”
Svidrigaïlov walked out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov walked out after
him. Svidrigaïlov was not however very drunk, the wine had affected him
for a moment, but it was passing off every minute. He was preoccupied
with something of importance and was frowning. He was apparently excited
and uneasy in anticipation of something. His manner to Raskolnikov had
changed during the last few minutes, and he was ruder and more sneering
every moment. Raskolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy. He
became very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and resolved to follow him.
They came out on to the pavement.
“You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the other way.
Only _adieu, mon plaisir_, may we meet again.”
And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market.
CHAPTER V
Raskolnikov walked after him.
“What’s this?” cried Svidrigaïlov turning round, “I thought I said...”
“It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now.”
“What?”
Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though measuring their
strength.
“From all your half tipsy stories,” Raskolnikov observed harshly, “I am
_positive_ that you have not given up your designs on my sister, but
are pursuing them more actively than ever. I have learnt that my sister
received a letter this morning. You have hardly been able to sit still
all this time.... You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that
means nothing. I should like to make certain myself.”
Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he
wished to make certain.
“Upon my word! I’ll call the police!”
“Call away!”
Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last Svidrigaïlov’s
face changed. Having satisfied himself that Raskolnikov was not
frightened at his threat, he assumed a mirthful and friendly air.
“What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to your affair,
though I am devoured by curiosity. It’s a fantastic affair. I’ve put it
off till another time, but you’re enough to rouse the dead.... Well, let
us go, only I warn you beforehand I am only going home for a moment,
to get some money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to
spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going to follow me?”
“I’m coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya Semyonovna, to
say I’m sorry not to have been at the funeral.”
“That’s as you like, but Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. She has taken
the three children to an old lady of high rank, the patroness of some
orphan asylums, whom I used to know years ago. I charmed the old lady by
depositing a sum of money with her to provide for the three children of
Katerina Ivanovna and subscribing to the institution as well. I told her
too the story of Sofya Semyonovna in full detail, suppressing nothing.
It produced an indescribable effect on her. That’s why Sofya Semyonovna
has been invited to call to-day at the X. Hotel where the lady is
staying for the time.”
“No matter, I’ll come all the same.”
“As you like, it’s nothing to me, but I won’t come with you; here we are
at home. By the way, I am convinced that you regard me with suspicion
just because I have shown such delicacy and have not so far troubled
you with questions... you understand? It struck you as extraordinary; I
don’t mind betting it’s that. Well, it teaches one to show delicacy!”
“And to listen at doors!”
“Ah, that’s it, is it?” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “Yes, I should have been
surprised if you had let that pass after all that has happened. Ha-ha!
Though I did understand something of the pranks you had been up to and
were telling Sofya Semyonovna about, what was the meaning of it? Perhaps
I am quite behind the times and can’t understand. For goodness’ sake,
explain it, my dear boy. Expound the latest theories!”
“You couldn’t have heard anything. You’re making it all up!”
“But I’m not talking about that (though I did hear something). No, I’m
talking of the way you keep sighing and groaning now. The Schiller in
you is in revolt every moment, and now you tell me not to listen at
doors. If that’s how you feel, go and inform the police that you had
this mischance: you made a little mistake in your theory. But if you are
convinced that one mustn’t listen at doors, but one may murder old women
at one’s pleasure, you’d better be off to America and make haste. Run,
young man! There may still be time. I’m speaking sincerely. Haven’t you
the money? I’ll give you the fare.”
“I’m not thinking of that at all,” Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust.
“I understand (but don’t put yourself out, don’t discuss it if you don’t
want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over--moral ones,
aren’t they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are
nothing to you now, ha-ha! You’ll say you are still a man and a citizen.
If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It’s no use taking up a
job you are not fit for. Well, you’d better shoot yourself, or don’t you
want to?”
“You seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you.”
“What a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the staircase. You
see, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home.
Don’t you believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here
is Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has she
gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won’t be till late in
the evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see
me, didn’t you? Here we are. Madame Resslich’s not at home. She is a
woman who is always busy, an excellent woman I assure you.... She might
have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible. Now,
see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau--see what a lot
I’ve got of them still--this one will be turned into cash to-day. I
mustn’t waste any more time. The bureau is locked, the flat is locked,
and here we are again on the stairs. Shall we take a cab? I’m going to
the Islands. Would you like a lift? I’ll take this carriage. Ah, you
refuse? You are tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on
to rain. Never mind, we’ll put down the hood....”
Svidrigaïlov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov decided that his
suspicions were at least for that moment unjust. Without answering a
word he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market. If he had only
turned round on his way he might have seen Svidrigaïlov get out not a
hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pavement. But he
had turned the corner and could see nothing. Intense disgust drew him
away from Svidrigaïlov.
“To think that I could for one instant have looked for help from that
coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and blackguard!” he cried.
Raskolnikov’s judgment was uttered too lightly and hastily: there was
something about Svidrigaïlov which gave him a certain original, even a
mysterious character. As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced
that Svidrigaïlov would not leave her in peace. But it was too tiresome
and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking about this.
When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before he sank, as
usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood by the railing and
began gazing at the water. And his sister was standing close by him.
He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by without seeing
her. Dounia had never met him like this in the street before and was
struck with dismay. She stood still and did not know whether to call
to him or not. Suddenly she saw Svidrigaïlov coming quickly from the
direction of the Hay Market.
He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go on to the
bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing all he could to avoid
Raskolnikov’s seeing him. He had observed Dounia for some time and had
been making signs to her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not
to speak to her brother, but to come to him.
That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and went up to
Svidrigaïlov.
“Let us make haste away,” Svidrigaïlov whispered to her, “I don’t want
Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting. I must tell you I’ve been
sitting with him in the restaurant close by, where he looked me up and
I had great difficulty in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of
my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn’t you who told him, of
course, but if not you, who then?”
“Well, we’ve turned the corner now,” Dounia interrupted, “and my brother
won’t see us. I have to tell you that I am going no further with you.
Speak to me here. You can tell it all in the street.”
“In the first place, I can’t say it in the street; secondly, you must
hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show you some papers....
Oh well, if you won’t agree to come with me, I shall refuse to give
any explanation and go away at once. But I beg you not to forget that
a very curious secret of your beloved brother’s is entirely in my
keeping.”
Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigaïlov with
searching eyes.
“What are you afraid of?” he observed quietly. “The town is not the
country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you.”
“Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?”
“No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite certain whether she
is at home now. But most likely she is. She has buried her stepmother
to-day: she is not likely to go visiting on such a day. For the time I
don’t want to speak to anyone about it and I half regret having spoken
to you. The slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like
this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That’s the porter
of our house--he knows me very well; you see, he’s bowing; he sees I’m
coming with a lady and no doubt he has noticed your face already and you
will be glad of that if you are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse
my putting things so coarsely. I haven’t a flat to myself; Sofya
Semyonovna’s room is next to mine--she lodges in the next flat. The
whole floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a child?
Am I really so terrible?”
Svidrigaïlov’s lips were twisted in a condescending smile; but he was in
no smiling mood. His heart was throbbing and he could scarcely breathe.
He spoke rather loud to cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not
notice this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark that
she was frightened of him like a child and that he was so terrible to
her.
“Though I know that you are not a man... of honour, I am not in the
least afraid of you. Lead the way,” she said with apparent composure,
but her face was very pale.
Svidrigaïlov stopped at Sonia’s room.
“Allow me to inquire whether she is at home.... She is not. How
unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If she’s gone out, it
can only be to see a lady about the orphans. Their mother is dead....
I’ve been meddling and making arrangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna
does not come back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if
you like. This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich,
my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will show you
my chief piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two
perfectly empty rooms, which are to let. Here they are... You must look
into them with some attention.”
Svidrigaïlov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms. Dounia was