Crime and Punishment by Dostoyevsky

Dostoyevsky PART I

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[7]         PART I
[11]        CHAPTER I
[13]        On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of
[14]        the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though
[15]        in hesitation, towards K. bridge.
[17]        He had successfully avoided meeting his landlady on the staircase. His
[18]        garret was under the roof of a high, five-storied house and was more
[19]        like a cupboard than a room. The landlady who provided him with
[20]        garret, dinners, and attendance, lived on the floor below, and every
[21]        time he went out he was obliged to pass her kitchen, the door of which
[22]        invariably stood open. And each time he passed, the young man had a
[23]        sick, frightened feeling, which made him scowl and feel ashamed. He
[24]        was hopelessly in debt to his landlady, and was afraid of meeting her.
[26]        This was not because he was cowardly and abject, quite the contrary;
[27]        but for some time past he had been in an overstrained irritable
[28]        condition, verging on hypochondria. He had become so completely
[29]        absorbed in himself, and isolated from his fellows that he dreaded
[30]        meeting, not only his landlady, but anyone at all. He was crushed by
[31]        poverty, but the anxieties of his position had of late ceased to weigh
[32]        upon him. He had given up attending to matters of practical
[33]        importance; he had lost all desire to do so. Nothing that any landlady
[34]        could do had a real terror for him. But to be stopped on the stairs,
[35]        to be forced to listen to her trivial, irrelevant gossip, to pestering
[36]        demands for payment, threats and complaints, and to rack his brains
[37]        for excuses, to prevaricate, to lie--no, rather than that, he would
[38]        creep down the stairs like a cat and slip out unseen.
[40]        This evening, however, on coming out into the street, he became
[41]        acutely aware of his fears.
[43]        "I want to attempt a thing /like that/ and am frightened by these
[44]        trifles," he thought, with an odd smile. "Hm . . . yes, all is in a
[45]        man's hands and he lets it all slip from cowardice, that's an axiom.
[46]        It would be interesting to know what it is men are most afraid of.
[47]        Taking a new step, uttering a new word is what they fear most. . . .
[48]        But I am talking too much. It's because I chatter that I do nothing.
[49]        Or perhaps it is that I chatter because I do nothing. I've learned to
[50]        chatter this last month, lying for days together in my den thinking
[51]        . . . of Jack the Giant-killer. Why am I going there now? Am I capable
[52]        of /that/? Is /that/ serious? It is not serious at all. It's simply a
[53]        fantasy to amuse myself; a plaything! Yes, maybe it is a plaything."
[55]        The heat in the street was terrible: and the airlessness, the bustle
[56]        and the plaster, scaffolding, bricks, and dust all about him, and that
[57]        special Petersburg stench, so familiar to all who are unable to get
[58]        out of town in summer--all worked painfully upon the young man's
[59]        already overwrought nerves. The insufferable stench from the pot-
[60]        houses, which are particularly numerous in that part of the town, and
[61]        the drunken men whom he met continually, although it was a working
[62]        day, completed the revolting misery of the picture. An expression of
[63]        the profoundest disgust gleamed for a moment in the young man's
[64]        refined face. He was, by the way, exceptionally handsome, above the
[65]        average in height, slim, well-built, with beautiful dark eyes and dark
[66]        brown hair. Soon he sank into deep thought, or more accurately
[67]        speaking into a complete blankness of mind; he walked along not
[68]        observing what was about him and not caring to observe it. From time
[69]        to time, he would mutter something, from the habit of talking to
[70]        himself, to which he had just confessed. At these moments he would
[71]        become conscious that his ideas were sometimes in a tangle and that he
[72]        was very weak; for two days he had scarcely tasted food.
[74]        He was so badly dressed that even a man accustomed to shabbiness would
[75]        have been ashamed to be seen in the street in such rags. In that
[76]        quarter of the town, however, scarcely any shortcoming in dress would
[77]        have created surprise. Owing to the proximity of the Hay Market, the
[78]        number of establishments of bad character, the preponderance of the
[79]        trading and working class population crowded in these streets and
[80]        alleys in the heart of Petersburg, types so various were to be seen in
[81]        the streets that no figure, however queer, would have caused surprise.
[82]        But there was such accumulated bitterness and contempt in the young
[83]        man's heart, that, in spite of all the fastidiousness of youth, he
[84]        minded his rags least of all in the street. It was a different matter
[85]        when he met with acquaintances or with former fellow students, whom,
[86]        indeed, he disliked meeting at any time. And yet when a drunken man
[87]        who, for some unknown reason, was being taken somewhere in a huge
[88]        waggon dragged by a heavy dray horse, suddenly shouted at him as he
[89]        drove past: "Hey there, German hatter" bawling at the top of his voice
[90]        and pointing at him--the young man stopped suddenly and clutched
[91]        tremulously at his hat. It was a tall round hat from Zimmerman's, but
[92]        completely worn out, rusty with age, all torn and bespattered,
[93]        brimless and bent on one side in a most unseemly fashion. Not shame,
[94]        however, but quite another feeling akin to terror had overtaken him.
[96]        "I knew it," he muttered in confusion, "I thought so! That's the worst
[97]        of all! Why, a stupid thing like this, the most trivial detail might
[98]        spoil the whole plan. Yes, my hat is too noticeable. . . . It looks
[99]        absurd and that makes it noticeable. . . . With my rags I ought to
[100]       wear a cap, any sort of old pancake, but not this grotesque thing.
[101]       Nobody wears such a hat, it would be noticed a mile off, it would be
[102]       remembered. . . . What matters is that people would remember it, and
[103]       that would give them a clue. For this business one should be as little
[104]       conspicuous as possible. . . . Trifles, trifles are what matter! Why,
[105]       it's just such trifles that always ruin everything. . . ."
[107]       He had not far to go; he knew indeed how many steps it was from the
[108]       gate of his lodging house: exactly seven hundred and thirty. He had
[109]       counted them once when he had been lost in dreams. At the time he had
[110]       put no faith in those dreams and was only tantalising himself by their
[111]       hideous but daring recklessness. Now, a month later, he had begun to
[112]       look upon them differently, and, in spite of the monologues in which
[113]       he jeered at his own impotence and indecision, he had involuntarily
[114]       come to regard this "hideous" dream as an exploit to be attempted,
[115]       although he still did not realise this himself. He was positively
[116]       going now for a "rehearsal" of his project, and at every step his
[117]       excitement grew more and more violent.
[119]       With a sinking heart and a nervous tremor, he went up to a huge house
[120]       which on one side looked on to the canal, and on the other into the
[121]       street. This house was let out in tiny tenements and was inhabited by
[122]       working people of all kinds--tailors, locksmiths, cooks, Germans of
[123]       sorts, girls picking up a living as best they could, petty clerks,
[124]       etc. There was a continual coming and going through the two gates and
[125]       in the two courtyards of the house. Three or four door-keepers were
[126]       employed on the building. The young man was very glad to meet none of
[127]       them, and at once slipped unnoticed through the door on the right, and
[128]       up the staircase. It was a back staircase, dark and narrow, but he was
[129]       familiar with it already, and knew his way, and he liked all these
[130]       surroundings: in such darkness even the most inquisitive eyes were not
[131]       to be dreaded.
[133]       "If I am so scared now, what would it be if it somehow came to pass
[134]       that I were really going to do it?" he could not help asking himself
[135]       as he reached the fourth storey. There his progress was barred by some
[136]       porters who were engaged in moving furniture out of a flat. He knew
[137]       that the flat had been occupied by a German clerk in the civil
[138]       service, and his family. This German was moving out then, and so the
[139]       fourth floor on this staircase would be untenanted except by the old
[140]       woman. "That's a good thing anyway," he thought to himself, as he rang
[141]       the bell of the old woman's flat. The bell gave a faint tinkle as
[142]       though it were made of tin and not of copper. The little flats in such
[143]       houses always have bells that ring like that. He had forgotten the
[144]       note of that bell, and now its peculiar tinkle seemed to remind him of
[145]       something and to bring it clearly before him. . . . He started, his
[146]       nerves were terribly overstrained by now. In a little while, the door
[147]       was opened a tiny crack: the old woman eyed her visitor with evident
[148]       distrust through the crack, and nothing could be seen but her little
[149]       eyes, glittering in the darkness. But, seeing a number of people on
[150]       the landing, she grew bolder, and opened the door wide. The young man
[151]       stepped into the dark entry, which was partitioned off from the tiny
[152]       kitchen. The old woman stood facing him in silence and looking
[153]       inquiringly at him. She was a diminutive, withered up old woman of
[154]       sixty, with sharp malignant eyes and a sharp little nose. Her
[155]       colourless, somewhat grizzled hair was thickly smeared with oil, and
[156]       she wore no kerchief over it. Round her thin long neck, which looked
[157]       like a hen's leg, was knotted some sort of flannel rag, and, in spite
[158]       of the heat, there hung flapping on her shoulders, a mangy fur cape,
[159]       yellow with age. The old woman coughed and groaned at every instant.
[160]       The young man must have looked at her with a rather peculiar
[161]       expression, for a gleam of mistrust came into her eyes again.
[163]       "Raskolnikov, a student, I came here a month ago," the young man made
[164]       haste to mutter, with a half bow, remembering that he ought to be more
[165]       polite.
[167]       "I remember, my good sir, I remember quite well your coming here," the
[168]       old woman said distinctly, still keeping her inquiring eyes on his
[169]       face.
[171]       "And here . . . I am again on the same errand," Raskolnikov continued,
[172]       a little disconcerted and surprised at the old woman's mistrust.
[173]       "Perhaps she is always like that though, only I did not notice it the
[174]       other time," he thought with an uneasy feeling.
[176]       The old woman paused, as though hesitating; then stepped on one side,
[177]       and pointing to the door of the room, she said, letting her visitor
[178]       pass in front of her:
[180]       "Step in, my good sir."
[182]       The little room into which the young man walked, with yellow paper on
[183]       the walls, geraniums and muslin curtains in the windows, was brightly
[184]       lighted up at that moment by the setting sun.
[186]       "So the sun will shine like this /then/ too!" flashed as it were by
[187]       chance through Raskolnikov's mind, and with a rapid glance he scanned
[188]       everything in the room, trying as far as possible to notice and
[189]       remember its arrangement. But there was nothing special in the room.
[190]       The furniture, all very old and of yellow wood, consisted of a sofa
[191]       with a huge bent wooden back, an oval table in front of the sofa, a
[192]       dressing-table with a looking-glass fixed on it between the windows,
[193]       chairs along the walls and two or three half-penny prints in yellow
[194]       frames, representing German damsels with birds in their hands--that
[195]       was all. In the corner a light was burning before a small ikon.
[196]       Everything was very clean; the floor and the furniture were brightly
[197]       polished; everything shone.
[199]       "Lizaveta's work," thought the young man. There was not a speck of
[200]       dust to be seen in the whole flat.
[202]       "It's in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such
[203]       cleanliness," Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance
[204]       at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in
[205]       which stood the old woman's bed and chest of drawers and into which he
[206]       had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat.
[208]       "What do you want?" the old woman said severely, coming into the room
[209]       and, as before, standing in front of him so as to look him straight in
[210]       the face.
[212]       "I've brought something to pawn here," and he drew out of his pocket
[213]       an old-fashioned flat silver watch, on the back of which was engraved
[214]       a globe; the chain was of steel.
[216]       "But the time is up for your last pledge. The month was up the day
[217]       before yesterday."
[219]       "I will bring you the interest for another month; wait a little."
[221]       "But that's for me to do as I please, my good sir, to wait or to sell
[222]       your pledge at once."
[224]       "How much will you give me for the watch, Alyona Ivanovna?"
[226]       "You come with such trifles, my good sir, it's scarcely worth
[227]       anything. I gave you two roubles last time for your ring and one could
[228]       buy it quite new at a jeweler's for a rouble and a half."
[230]       "Give me four roubles for it, I shall redeem it, it was my father's. I
[231]       shall be getting some money soon."
[233]       "A rouble and a half, and interest in advance, if you like!"
[235]       "A rouble and a half!" cried the young man.
[237]       "Please yourself"--and the old woman handed him back the watch. The
[238]       young man took it, and was so angry that he was on the point of going
[239]       away; but checked himself at once, remembering that there was nowhere
[240]       else he could go, and that he had had another object also in coming.
[242]       "Hand it over," he said roughly.
[244]       The old woman fumbled in her pocket for her keys, and disappeared
[245]       behind the curtain into the other room. The young man, left standing
[246]       alone in the middle of the room, listened inquisitively, thinking. He
[247]       could hear her unlocking the chest of drawers.
[249]       "It must be the top drawer," he reflected. "So she carries the keys in
[250]       a pocket on the right. All in one bunch on a steel ring. . . . And
[251]       there's one key there, three times as big as all the others, with deep
[252]       notches; that can't be the key of the chest of drawers . . . then
[253]       there must be some other chest or strong-box . . . that's worth
[254]       knowing. Strong-boxes always have keys like that . . . but how
[255]       degrading it all is."
[257]       The old woman came back.
[259]       "Here, sir: as we say ten copecks the rouble a month, so I must take
[260]       fifteen copecks from a rouble and a half for the month in advance. But
[261]       for the two roubles I lent you before, you owe me now twenty copecks
[262]       on the same reckoning in advance. That makes thirty-five copecks
[263]       altogether. So I must give you a rouble and fifteen copecks for the
[264]       watch. Here it is."
[266]       "What! only a rouble and fifteen copecks now!"
[268]       "Just so."
[270]       The young man did not dispute it and took the money. He looked at the
[271]       old woman, and was in no hurry to get away, as though there was still
[272]       something he wanted to say or to do, but he did not himself quite know
[273]       what.
[275]       "I may be bringing you something else in a day or two, Alyona Ivanovna
[276]       --a valuable thing--silver--a cigarette-box, as soon as I get it back
[277]       from a friend . . ." he broke off in confusion.
[279]       "Well, we will talk about it then, sir."
[281]       "Good-bye--are you always at home alone, your sister is not here with
[282]       you?" He asked her as casually as possible as he went out into the
[283]       passage.
[285]       "What business is she of yours, my good sir?"
[287]       "Oh, nothing particular, I simply asked. You are too quick. . . .
[288]       Good-day, Alyona Ivanovna."
[290]       Raskolnikov went out in complete confusion. This confusion became more
[291]       and more intense. As he went down the stairs, he even stopped short,
[292]       two or three times, as though suddenly struck by some thought. When he
[293]       was in the street he cried out, "Oh, God, how loathsome it all is! and
[294]       can I, can I possibly. . . . No, it's nonsense, it's rubbish!" he
[295]       added resolutely. "And how could such an atrocious thing come into my
[296]       head? What filthy things my heart is capable of. Yes, filthy above
[297]       all, disgusting, loathsome, loathsome!--and for a whole month I've
[298]       been. . . ." But no words, no exclamations, could express his
[299]       agitation. The feeling of intense repulsion, which had begun to
[300]       oppress and torture his heart while he was on his way to the old
[301]       woman, had by now reached such a pitch and had taken such a definite
[302]       form that he did not know what to do with himself to escape from his
[303]       wretchedness. He walked along the pavement like a drunken man,
[304]       regardless of the passers-by, and jostling against them, and only came
[305]       to his senses when he was in the next street. Looking round, he
[306]       noticed that he was standing close to a tavern which was entered by
[307]       steps leading from the pavement to the basement. At that instant two
[308]       drunken men came out at the door, and abusing and supporting one
[309]       another, they mounted the steps. Without stopping to think,
[310]       Raskolnikov went down the steps at once. Till that moment he had never
[311]       been into a tavern, but now he felt giddy and was tormented by a
[312]       burning thirst. He longed for a drink of cold beer, and attributed his
[313]       sudden weakness to the want of food. He sat down at a sticky little
[314]       table in a dark and dirty corner; ordered some beer, and eagerly drank
[315]       off the first glassful. At once he felt easier; and his thoughts
[316]       became clear.
[318]       "All that's nonsense," he said hopefully, "and there is nothing in it
[319]       all to worry about! It's simply physical derangement. Just a glass of
[320]       beer, a piece of dry bread--and in one moment the brain is stronger,
[321]       the mind is clearer and the will is firm! Phew, how utterly petty it
[322]       all is!"
[324]       But in spite of this scornful reflection, he was by now looking
[325]       cheerful as though he were suddenly set free from a terrible burden:
[326]       and he gazed round in a friendly way at the people in the room. But
[327]       even at that moment he had a dim foreboding that this happier frame of
[328]       mind was also not normal.
[330]       There were few people at the time in the tavern. Besides the two
[331]       drunken men he had met on the steps, a group consisting of about five
[332]       men and a girl with a concertina had gone out at the same time. Their
[333]       departure left the room quiet and rather empty. The persons still in
[334]       the tavern were a man who appeared to be an artisan, drunk, but not
[335]       extremely so, sitting before a pot of beer, and his companion, a huge,
[336]       stout man with a grey beard, in a short full-skirted coat. He was very
[337]       drunk: and had dropped asleep on the bench; every now and then, he
[338]       began as though in his sleep, cracking his fingers, with his arms wide
[339]       apart and the upper part of his body bounding about on the bench,
[340]       while he hummed some meaningless refrain, trying to recall some such
[341]       lines as these:
[343]        "His wife a year he fondly loved
[344]         His wife a--a year he--fondly loved."
[346]       Or suddenly waking up again:
[348]        "Walking along the crowded row
[349]         He met the one he used to know."
[351]       But no one shared his enjoyment: his silent companion looked with
[352]       positive hostility and mistrust at all these manifestations. There was
[353]       another man in the room who looked somewhat like a retired government
[354]       clerk. He was sitting apart, now and then sipping from his pot and
[355]       looking round at the company. He, too, appeared to be in some
[356]       agitation.
[360]       CHAPTER II
[362]       Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoided
[363]       society of every sort, more especially of late. But now all at once he
[364]       felt a desire to be with other people. Something new seemed to be
[365]       taking place within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for
[366]       company. He was so weary after a whole month of concentrated
[367]       wretchedness and gloomy excitement that he longed to rest, if only for
[368]       a moment, in some other world, whatever it might be; and, in spite of
[369]       the filthiness of the surroundings, he was glad now to stay in the
[370]       tavern.
[372]       The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequently
[373]       came down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots with
[374]       red turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of his
[375]       person. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin
[376]       waistcoat, with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil
[377]       like an iron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and
[378]       there was another boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted.
[379]       On the counter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black
[380]       bread, and some fish, chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was
[381]       insufferably close, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five
[382]       minutes in such an atmosphere might well make a man drunk.
[384]       There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from the
[385]       first moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made on
[386]       Raskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who
[387]       looked like a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this
[388]       impression afterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked
[389]       repeatedly at the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was
[390]       staring persistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into
[391]       conversation. At the other persons in the room, including the tavern-
[392]       keeper, the clerk looked as though he were used to their company, and
[393]       weary of it, showing a shade of condescending contempt for them as
[394]       persons of station and culture inferior to his own, with whom it would
[395]       be useless for him to converse. He was a man over fifty, bald and
[396]       grizzled, of medium height, and stoutly built. His face, bloated from
[397]       continual drinking, was of a yellow, even greenish, tinge, with
[398]       swollen eyelids out of which keen reddish eyes gleamed like little
[399]       chinks. But there was something very strange in him; there was a light
[400]       in his eyes as though of intense feeling--perhaps there were even
[401]       thought and intelligence, but at the same time there was a gleam of
[402]       something like madness. He was wearing an old and hopelessly ragged
[403]       black dress coat, with all its buttons missing except one, and that
[404]       one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to this last trace of
[405]       respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spots and stains,
[406]       protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he wore no beard,
[407]       nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chin looked like
[408]       a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectable and like an
[409]       official about his manner too. But he was restless; he ruffled up his
[410]       hair and from time to time let his head drop into his hands dejectedly
[411]       resting his ragged elbows on the stained and sticky table. At last he
[412]       looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly and resolutely:
[414]       "May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation?
[415]       Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, my
[416]       experience admonishes me that you are a man of education and not
[417]       accustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when in
[418]       conjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titular
[419]       counsellor in rank. Marmeladov--such is my name; titular counsellor. I
[420]       make bold to inquire--have you been in the service?"
[422]       "No, I am studying," answered the young man, somewhat surprised at the
[423]       grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directly
[424]       addressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling
[425]       for company of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt
[426]       immediately his habitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any
[427]       stranger who approached or attempted to approach him.
[429]       "A student then, or formerly a student," cried the clerk. "Just what I
[430]       thought! I'm a man of experience, immense experience, sir," and he
[431]       tapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. "You've been a
[432]       student or have attended some learned institution! . . . But allow me.
[433]       . . ." He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down
[434]       beside the young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but
[435]       spoke fluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of his
[436]       sentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov as
[437]       greedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month.
[439]       "Honoured sir," he began almost with solemnity, "poverty is not a
[440]       vice, that's a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a
[441]       virtue, and that that's even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary
[442]       is a vice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of
[443]       soul, but in beggary--never--no one. For beggary a man is not chased
[444]       out of human society with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as
[445]       to make it as humiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch
[446]       as in beggary I am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence
[447]       the pot-house! Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my
[448]       wife a beating, and my wife is a very different matter from me! Do you
[449]       understand? Allow me to ask you another question out of simple
[450]       curiosity: have you ever spent a night on a hay barge, on the Neva?"
[452]       "No, I have not happened to," answered Raskolnikov. "What do you
[453]       mean?"
[455]       "Well, I've just come from one and it's the fifth night I've slept
[456]       so. . . ." He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay
[457]       were in fact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It
[458]       seemed quite probable that he had not undressed or washed for the last
[459]       five days. His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and
[460]       red, with black nails.
[462]       His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest.
[463]       The boys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down
[464]       from the upper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the "funny
[465]       fellow" and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with
[466]       dignity. Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had
[467]       most likely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the
[468]       habit of frequently entering into conversation with strangers of all
[469]       sorts in the tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some
[470]       drunkards, and especially in those who are looked after sharply and
[471]       kept in order at home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try
[472]       to justify themselves and even if possible obtain consideration.
[474]       "Funny fellow!" pronounced the innkeeper. "And why don't you work, why
[475]       aren't you at your duty, if you are in the service?"
[477]       "Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir," Marmeladov went on,
[478]       addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been
[479]       he who put that question to him. "Why am I not at my duty? Does not my
[480]       heart ache to think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr.
[481]       Lebeziatnikov beat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didn't
[482]       I suffer? Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you . . . hm
[483]       . . . well, to petition hopelessly for a loan?"
[485]       "Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?"
[487]       "Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that you
[488]       will get nothing by it. You know, for instance, beforehand with
[489]       positive certainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary
[490]       citizen, will on no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you
[491]       why should he? For he knows of course that I shan't pay it back. From
[492]       compassion? But Mr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas
[493]       explained the other day that compassion is forbidden nowadays by
[494]       science itself, and that that's what is done now in England, where
[495]       there is political economy. Why, I ask you, should he give it to me?
[496]       And yet though I know beforehand that he won't, I set off to him
[497]       and . . ."
[499]       "Why do you go?" put in Raskolnikov.
[501]       "Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man
[502]       must have somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely
[503]       must go somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow
[504]       ticket, then I had to go . . . (for my daughter has a yellow
[505]       passport)," he added in parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness
[506]       at the young man. "No matter, sir, no matter!" he went on hurriedly
[507]       and with apparent composure when both the boys at the counter guffawed
[508]       and even the innkeeper smiled--"No matter, I am not confounded by the
[509]       wagging of their heads; for everyone knows everything about it
[510]       already, and all that is secret is made open. And I accept it all, not
[511]       with contempt, but with humility. So be it! So be it! 'Behold the
[512]       man!' Excuse me, young man, can you. . . . No, to put it more strongly
[513]       and more distinctly; not /can/ you but /dare/ you, looking upon me,
[514]       assert that I am not a pig?"
[516]       The young man did not answer a word.
[518]       "Well," the orator began again stolidly and with even increased
[519]       dignity, after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. "Well,
[520]       so be it, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a
[521]       beast, but Katerina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and
[522]       an officer's daughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is
[523]       a woman of a noble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education.
[524]       And yet . . . oh, if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir,
[525]       you know every man ought to have at least one place where people feel
[526]       for him! But Katerina Ivanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is
[527]       unjust. . . . And yet, although I realise that when she pulls my hair
[528]       she only does it out of pity--for I repeat without being ashamed, she
[529]       pulls my hair, young man," he declared with redoubled dignity, hearing
[530]       the sniggering again--"but, my God, if she would but once. . . . But
[531]       no, no! It's all in vain and it's no use talking! No use talking! For
[532]       more than once, my wish did come true and more than once she has felt
[533]       for me but . . . such is my fate and I am a beast by nature!"
[535]       "Rather!" assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fist
[536]       resolutely on the table.
[538]       "Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her very
[539]       stockings for drink? Not her shoes--that would be more or less in the
[540]       order of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for
[541]       drink! Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago,
[542]       her own property, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught
[543]       cold this winter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We
[544]       have three little children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from
[545]       morning till night; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the
[546]       children, for she's been used to cleanliness from a child. But her
[547]       chest is weak and she has a tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do
[548]       you suppose I don't feel it? And the more I drink the more I feel it.
[549]       That's why I drink too. I try to find sympathy and feeling in drink.
[550]       . . . I drink so that I may suffer twice as much!" And as though in
[551]       despair he laid his head down on the table.
[553]       "Young man," he went on, raising his head again, "in your face I seem
[554]       to read some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was
[555]       why I addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my
[556]       life, I do not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle
[557]       listeners, who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for
[558]       a man of feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in
[559]       a high-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving she
[560]       danced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages for
[561]       which she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit.
[562]       The medal . . . well, the medal of course was sold--long ago, hm . . .
[563]       but the certificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago
[564]       she showed it to our landlady. And although she is most continually on
[565]       bad terms with the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other
[566]       of her past honours and of the happy days that are gone. I don't
[567]       condemn her for it, I don't blame her, for the one thing left her is
[568]       recollection of the past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes,
[569]       yes, she is a lady of spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the
[570]       floors herself and has nothing but black bread to eat, but won't allow
[571]       herself to be treated with disrespect. That's why she would not
[572]       overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov's rudeness to her, and so when he gave her
[573]       a beating for it, she took to her bed more from the hurt to her
[574]       feelings than from the blows. She was a widow when I married her, with
[575]       three children, one smaller than the other. She married her first
[576]       husband, an infantry officer, for love, and ran away with him from her
[577]       father's house. She was exceedingly fond of her husband; but he gave
[578]       way to cards, got into trouble and with that he died. He used to beat
[579]       her at the end: and although she paid him back, of which I have
[580]       authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks of him with
[581]       tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am glad that,
[582]       though only in imagination, she should think of herself as having once
[583]       been happy. . . . And she was left at his death with three children in
[584]       a wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and she
[585]       was left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many ups
[586]       and downs of all sort, I don't feel equal to describing it even. Her
[587]       relations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessively
[588]       proud. . . . And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time a
[589]       widower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offered
[590]       her my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You can
[591]       judge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of education
[592]       and culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be my
[593]       wife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, she
[594]       married me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do
[595]       you understand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn?
[596]       No, that you don't understand yet. . . . And for a whole year, I
[597]       performed my duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch
[598]       this" (he tapped the jug with his finger), "for I have feelings. But
[599]       even so, I could not please her; and then I lost my place too, and
[600]       that through no fault of mine but through changes in the office; and
[601]       then I did touch it! . . . It will be a year and a half ago soon since
[602]       we found ourselves at last after many wanderings and numerous
[603]       calamities in this magnificent capital, adorned with innumerable
[604]       monuments. Here I obtained a situation. . . . I obtained it and I lost
[605]       it again. Do you understand? This time it was through my own fault I
[606]       lost it: for my weakness had come out. . . . We have now part of a
[607]       room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsel's; and what we live upon and
[608]       what we pay our rent with, I could not say. There are a lot of people
[609]       living there besides ourselves. Dirt and disorder, a perfect Bedlam
[610]       . . . hm . . . yes . . . And meanwhile my daughter by my first wife
[611]       has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up with from her
[612]       step-mother whilst she was growing up, I won't speak of. For, though
[613]       Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spirited
[614]       lady, irritable and short--tempered. . . . Yes. But it's no use going
[615]       over that! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did
[616]       make an effort four years ago to give her a course of geography and
[617]       universal history, but as I was not very well up in those subjects
[618]       myself and we had no suitable books, and what books we had . . . hm,
[619]       anyway we have not even those now, so all our instruction came to an
[620]       end. We stopped at Cyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of
[621]       maturity, she has read other books of romantic tendency and of late
[622]       she had read with great interest a book she got through Mr.
[623]       Lebeziatnikov, Lewes' Physiology--do you know it?--and even recounted
[624]       extracts from it to us: and that's the whole of her education. And now
[625]       may I venture to address you, honoured sir, on my own account with a
[626]       private question. Do you suppose that a respectable poor girl can earn
[627]       much by honest work? Not fifteen farthings a day can she earn, if she
[628]       is respectable and has no special talent and that without putting her
[629]       work down for an instant! And what's more, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the
[630]       civil counsellor--have you heard of him?--has not to this day paid her
[631]       for the half-dozen linen shirts she made him and drove her roughly
[632]       away, stamping and reviling her, on the pretext that the shirt collars
[633]       were not made like the pattern and were put in askew. And there are
[634]       the little ones hungry. . . . And Katerina Ivanovna walking up and
[635]       down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushed red, as they always
[636]       are in that disease: 'Here you live with us,' says she, 'you eat and
[637]       drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help.' And much she gets
[638]       to eat and drink when there is not a crust for the little ones for
[639]       three days! I was lying at the time . . . well, what of it! I was
[640]       lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentle creature
[641]       with a soft little voice . . . fair hair and such a pale, thin little
[642]       face). She said: 'Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thing like
[643]       that?' And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and very well
[644]       known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at her
[645]       through the landlady. 'And why not?' said Katerina Ivanovna with a
[646]       jeer, 'you are something mighty precious to be so careful of!' But
[647]       don't blame her, don't blame her, honoured sir, don't blame her! She
[648]       was not herself when she spoke, but driven to distraction by her
[649]       illness and the crying of the hungry children; and it was said more to
[650]       wound her than anything else. . . . For that's Katerina Ivanovna's
[651]       character, and when children cry, even from hunger, she falls to
[652]       beating them at once. At six o'clock I saw Sonia get up, put on her
[653]       kerchief and her cape, and go out of the room and about nine o'clock
[654]       she came back. She walked straight up to Katerina Ivanovna and she
[655]       laid thirty roubles on the table before her in silence. She did not
[656]       utter a word, she did not even look at her, she simply picked up our
[657]       big green /drap de dames/ shawl (we have a shawl, made of /drap de
[658]       dames/), put it over her head and face and lay down on the bed with
[659]       her face to the wall; only her little shoulders and her body kept
[660]       shuddering. . . . And I went on lying there, just as before. . . . And
[661]       then I saw, young man, I saw Katerina Ivanovna, in the same silence go
[662]       up to Sonia's little bed; she was on her knees all the evening kissing
[663]       Sonia's feet, and would not get up, and then they both fell asleep in
[664]       each other's arms . . . together, together . . . yes . . . and I . . .
[665]       lay drunk."
[667]       Marmeladov stopped short, as though his voice had failed him. Then he
[668]       hurriedly filled his glass, drank, and cleared his throat.
[670]       "Since then, sir," he went on after a brief pause--"Since then, owing
[671]       to an unfortunate occurrence and through information given by evil-
[672]       intentioned persons--in all which Darya Frantsovna took a leading part
[673]       on the pretext that she had been treated with want of respect--since
[674]       then my daughter Sofya Semyonovna has been forced to take a yellow
[675]       ticket, and owing to that she is unable to go on living with us. For
[676]       our landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna would not hear of it (though she had
[677]       backed up Darya Frantsovna before) and Mr. Lebeziatnikov too . . . hm.
[678]       . . . All the trouble between him and Katerina Ivanovna was on Sonia's
[679]       account. At first he was for making up to Sonia himself and then all
[680]       of a sudden he stood on his dignity: 'how,' said he, 'can a highly
[681]       educated man like me live in the same rooms with a girl like that?'
[682]       And Katerina Ivanovna would not let it pass, she stood up for her
[683]       . . . and so that's how it happened. And Sonia comes to us now, mostly
[684]       after dark; she comforts Katerina Ivanovna and gives her all she can.
[685]       . . . She has a room at the Kapernaumovs' the tailors, she lodges with
[686]       them; Kapernaumov is a lame man with a cleft palate and all of his
[687]       numerous family have cleft palates too. And his wife, too, has a cleft
[688]       palate. They all live in one room, but Sonia has her own, partitioned
[689]       off. . . . Hm . . . yes . . . very poor people and all with cleft
[690]       palates . . . yes. Then I got up in the morning, and put on my rags,
[691]       lifted up my hands to heaven and set off to his excellency Ivan
[692]       Afanasyvitch. His excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch, do you know him? No?
[693]       Well, then, it's a man of God you don't know. He is wax . . . wax
[694]       before the face of the Lord; even as wax melteth! . . . His eyes were
[695]       dim when he heard my story. 'Marmeladov, once already you have
[696]       deceived my expectations . . . I'll take you once more on my own
[697]       responsibility'--that's what he said, 'remember,' he said, 'and now
[698]       you can go.' I kissed the dust at his feet--in thought only, for in
[699]       reality he would not have allowed me to do it, being a statesman and a
[700]       man of modern political and enlightened ideas. I returned home, and
[701]       when I announced that I'd been taken back into the service and should
[702]       receive a salary, heavens, what a to-do there was . . .!"
[704]       Marmeladov stopped again in violent excitement. At that moment a whole
[705]       party of revellers already drunk came in from the street, and the
[706]       sounds of a hired concertina and the cracked piping voice of a child
[707]       of seven singing "The Hamlet" were heard in the entry. The room was
[708]       filled with noise. The tavern-keeper and the boys were busy with the
[709]       new-comers. Marmeladov paying no attention to the new arrivals
[710]       continued his story. He appeared by now to be extremely weak, but as
[711]       he became more and more drunk, he became more and more talkative. The
[712]       recollection of his recent success in getting the situation seemed to
[713]       revive him, and was positively reflected in a sort of radiance on his
[714]       face. Raskolnikov listened attentively.
[716]       "That was five weeks ago, sir. Yes. . . . As soon as Katerina Ivanovna
[717]       and Sonia heard of it, mercy on us, it was as though I stepped into
[718]       the kingdom of Heaven. It used to be: you can lie like a beast,
[719]       nothing but abuse. Now they were walking on tiptoe, hushing the
[720]       children. 'Semyon Zaharovitch is tired with his work at the office, he
[721]       is resting, shh!' They made me coffee before I went to work and boiled
[722]       cream for me! They began to get real cream for me, do you hear that?
[723]       And how they managed to get together the money for a decent outfit--
[724]       eleven roubles, fifty copecks, I can't guess. Boots, cotton shirt-
[725]       fronts--most magnificent, a uniform, they got up all in splendid
[726]       style, for eleven roubles and a half. The first morning I came back
[727]       from the office I found Katerina Ivanovna had cooked two courses for
[728]       dinner--soup and salt meat with horse radish--which we had never
[729]       dreamed of till then. She had not any dresses . . . none at all, but
[730]       she got herself up as though she were going on a visit; and not that
[731]       she'd anything to do it with, she smartened herself up with nothing at
[732]       all, she'd done her hair nicely, put on a clean collar of some sort,
[733]       cuffs, and there she was, quite a different person, she was younger
[734]       and better looking. Sonia, my little darling, had only helped with
[735]       money 'for the time,' she said, 'it won't do for me to come and see
[736]       you too often. After dark maybe when no one can see.' Do you hear, do
[737]       you hear? I lay down for a nap after dinner and what do you think:
[738]       though Katerina Ivanovna had quarrelled to the last degree with our
[739]       landlady Amalia Fyodorovna only a week before, she could not resist
[740]       then asking her in to coffee. For two hours they were sitting,
[741]       whispering together. 'Semyon Zaharovitch is in the service again, now,
[742]       and receiving a salary,' says she, 'and he went himself to his
[743]       excellency and his excellency himself came out to him, made all the
[744]       others wait and led Semyon Zaharovitch by the hand before everybody
[745]       into his study.' Do you hear, do you hear? 'To be sure,' says he,
[746]       'Semyon Zaharovitch, remembering your past services,' says he, 'and in
[747]       spite of your propensity to that foolish weakness, since you promise
[748]       now and since moreover we've got on badly without you,' (do you hear,
[749]       do you hear;) 'and so,' says he, 'I rely now on your word as a
[750]       gentleman.' And all that, let me tell you, she has simply made up for
[751]       herself, and not simply out of wantonness, for the sake of bragging;
[752]       no, she believes it all herself, she amuses herself with her own
[753]       fancies, upon my word she does! And I don't blame her for it, no, I
[754]       don't blame her! . . . Six days ago when I brought her my first
[755]       earnings in full--twenty-three roubles forty copecks altogether--she
[756]       called me her poppet: 'poppet,' said she, 'my little poppet.' And when
[757]       we were by ourselves, you understand? You would not think me a beauty,
[758]       you would not think much of me as a husband, would you? . . . Well,
[759]       she pinched my cheek, 'my little poppet,' said she."
[761]       Marmeladov broke off, tried to smile, but suddenly his chin began to
[762]       twitch. He controlled himself however. The tavern, the degraded
[763]       appearance of the man, the five nights in the hay barge, and the pot
[764]       of spirits, and yet this poignant love for his wife and children
[765]       bewildered his listener. Raskolnikov listened intently but with a sick
[766]       sensation. He felt vexed that he had come here.
[768]       "Honoured sir, honoured sir," cried Marmeladov recovering himself--
[769]       "Oh, sir, perhaps all this seems a laughing matter to you, as it does
[770]       to others, and perhaps I am only worrying you with the stupidity of
[771]       all the trivial details of my home life, but it is not a laughing
[772]       matter to me. For I can feel it all. . . . And the whole of that
[773]       heavenly day of my life and the whole of that evening I passed in
[774]       fleeting dreams of how I would arrange it all, and how I would dress
[775]       all the children, and how I should give her rest, and how I should
[776]       rescue my own daughter from dishonour and restore her to the bosom of
[777]       her family. . . . And a great deal more. . . . Quite excusable, sir.
[778]       Well, then, sir" (Marmeladov suddenly gave a sort of start, raised his
[779]       head and gazed intently at his listener) "well, on the very next day
[780]       after all those dreams, that is to say, exactly five days ago, in the
[781]       evening, by a cunning trick, like a thief in the night, I stole from
[782]       Katerina Ivanovna the key of her box, took out what was left of my
[783]       earnings, how much it was I have forgotten, and now look at me, all of
[784]       you! It's the fifth day since I left home, and they are looking for me
[785]       there and it's the end of my employment, and my uniform is lying in a
[786]       tavern on the Egyptian bridge. I exchanged it for the garments I have
[787]       on . . . and it's the end of everything!"
[789]       Marmeladov struck his forehead with his fist, clenched his teeth,
[790]       closed his eyes and leaned heavily with his elbow on the table. But a
[791]       minute later his face suddenly changed and with a certain assumed
[792]       slyness and affectation of bravado, he glanced at Raskolnikov, laughed
[793]       and said:
[795]       "This morning I went to see Sonia, I went to ask her for a pick-me-up!
[796]       He-he-he!"
[798]       "You don't say she gave it to you?" cried one of the new-comers; he
[799]       shouted the words and went off into a guffaw.
[801]       "This very quart was bought with her money," Marmeladov declared,
[802]       addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov. "Thirty copecks she
[803]       gave me with her own hands, her last, all she had, as I saw. . . . She
[804]       said nothing, she only looked at me without a word. . . . Not on
[805]       earth, but up yonder . . . they grieve over men, they weep, but they
[806]       don't blame them, they don't blame them! But it hurts more, it hurts
[807]       more when they don't blame! Thirty copecks yes! And maybe she needs
[808]       them now, eh? What do you think, my dear sir? For now she's got to
[809]       keep up her appearance. It costs money, that smartness, that special
[810]       smartness, you know? Do you understand? And there's pomatum, too, you
[811]       see, she must have things; petticoats, starched ones, shoes, too, real
[812]       jaunty ones to show off her foot when she has to step over a puddle.
[813]       Do you understand, sir, do you understand what all that smartness
[814]       means? And here I, her own father, here I took thirty copecks of that
[815]       money for a drink! And I am drinking it! And I have already drunk it!
[816]       Come, who will have pity on a man like me, eh? Are you sorry for me,
[817]       sir, or not? Tell me, sir, are you sorry or not? He-he-he!"
[819]       He would have filled his glass, but there was no drink left. The pot
[820]       was empty.
[822]       "What are you to be pitied for?" shouted the tavern-keeper who was
[823]       again near them.
[825]       Shouts of laughter and even oaths followed. The laughter and the oaths
[826]       came from those who were listening and also from those who had heard
[827]       nothing but were simply looking at the figure of the discharged
[828]       government clerk.
[830]       "To be pitied! Why am I to be pitied?" Marmeladov suddenly declaimed,
[831]       standing up with his arm outstretched, as though he had been only
[832]       waiting for that question.
[834]       "Why am I to be pitied, you say? Yes! there's nothing to pity me for!
[835]       I ought to be crucified, crucified on a cross, not pitied! Crucify me,
[836]       oh judge, crucify me but pity me! And then I will go of myself to be
[837]       crucified, for it's not merry-making I seek but tears and tribulation!
[838]       . . . Do you suppose, you that sell, that this pint of yours has been
[839]       sweet to me? It was tribulation I sought at the bottom of it, tears
[840]       and tribulation, and have found it, and I have tasted it; but He will
[841]       pity us Who has had pity on all men, Who has understood all men and
[842]       all things, He is the One, He too is the judge. He will come in that
[843]       day and He will ask: 'Where is the daughter who gave herself for her
[844]       cross, consumptive step-mother and for the little children of another?
[845]       Where is the daughter who had pity upon the filthy drunkard, her
[846]       earthly father, undismayed by his beastliness?' And He will say, 'Come
[847]       to me! I have already forgiven thee once. . . . I have forgiven thee
[848]       once. . . . Thy sins which are many are forgiven thee for thou hast
[849]       loved much. . . .' And he will forgive my Sonia, He will forgive, I
[850]       know it . . . I felt it in my heart when I was with her just now! And
[851]       He will judge and will forgive all, the good and the evil, the wise
[852]       and the meek. . . . And when He has done with all of them, then He
[853]       will summon us. 'You too come forth,' He will say, 'Come forth ye
[854]       drunkards, come forth, ye weak ones, come forth, ye children of
[855]       shame!' And we shall all come forth, without shame and shall stand
[856]       before him. And He will say unto us, 'Ye are swine, made in the Image
[857]       of the Beast and with his mark; but come ye also!' And the wise ones
[858]       and those of understanding will say, 'Oh Lord, why dost Thou receive
[859]       these men?' And He will say, 'This is why I receive them, oh ye wise,
[860]       this is why I receive them, oh ye of understanding, that not one of
[861]       them believed himself to be worthy of this.' And He will hold out His
[862]       hands to us and we shall fall down before him . . . and we shall weep
[863]       . . . and we shall understand all things! Then we shall understand
[864]       all! . . . and all will understand, Katerina Ivanovna even . . . she
[865]       will understand. . . . Lord, Thy kingdom come!" And he sank down on
[866]       the bench exhausted, and helpless, looking at no one, apparently
[867]       oblivious of his surroundings and plunged in deep thought. His words
[868]       had created a certain impression; there was a moment of silence; but
[869]       soon laughter and oaths were heard again.
[871]       "That's his notion!"
[873]       "Talked himself silly!"
[875]       "A fine clerk he is!"
[877]       And so on, and so on.
[879]       "Let us go, sir," said Marmeladov all at once, raising his head and
[880]       addressing Raskolnikov--"come along with me . . . Kozel's house,
[881]       looking into the yard. I'm going to Katerina Ivanovna--time I did."
[883]       Raskolnikov had for some time been wanting to go and he had meant to
[884]       help him. Marmeladov was much unsteadier on his legs than in his
[885]       speech and leaned heavily on the young man. They had two or three
[886]       hundred paces to go. The drunken man was more and more overcome by
[887]       dismay and confusion as they drew nearer the house.
[889]       "It's not Katerina Ivanovna I am afraid of now," he muttered in
[890]       agitation--"and that she will begin pulling my hair. What does my hair
[891]       matter! Bother my hair! That's what I say! Indeed it will be better if
[892]       she does begin pulling it, that's not what I am afraid of . . . it's
[893]       her eyes I am afraid of . . . yes, her eyes . . . the red on her
[894]       cheeks, too, frightens me . . . and her breathing too. . . . Have you
[895]       noticed how people in that disease breathe . . . when they are
[896]       excited? I am frightened of the children's crying, too. . . . For if
[897]       Sonia has not taken them food . . . I don't know what's happened! I
[898]       don't know! But blows I am not afraid of. . . . Know, sir, that such
[899]       blows are not a pain to me, but even an enjoyment. In fact I can't get
[900]       on without it. . . . It's better so. Let her strike me, it relieves
[901]       her heart . . . it's better so . . . There is the house. The house of
[902]       Kozel, the cabinet-maker . . . a German, well-to-do. Lead the way!"
[904]       They went in from the yard and up to the fourth storey. The staircase
[905]       got darker and darker as they went up. It was nearly eleven o'clock
[906]       and although in summer in Petersburg there is no real night, yet it
[907]       was quite dark at the top of the stairs.
[909]       A grimy little door at the very top of the stairs stood ajar. A very
[910]       poor-looking room about ten paces long was lighted up by a candle-end;
[911]       the whole of it was visible from the entrance. It was all in disorder,
[912]       littered up with rags of all sorts, especially children's garments.
[913]       Across the furthest corner was stretched a ragged sheet. Behind it
[914]       probably was the bed. There was nothing in the room except two chairs
[915]       and a sofa covered with American leather, full of holes, before which
[916]       stood an old deal kitchen-table, unpainted and uncovered. At the edge
[917]       of the table stood a smoldering tallow-candle in an iron candlestick.
[918]       It appeared that the family had a room to themselves, not part of a
[919]       room, but their room was practically a passage. The door leading to
[920]       the other rooms, or rather cupboards, into which Amalia Lippevechsel's
[921]       flat was divided stood half open, and there was shouting, uproar and
[922]       laughter within. People seemed to be playing cards and drinking tea
[923]       there. Words of the most unceremonious kind flew out from time to
[924]       time.
[926]       Raskolnikov recognised Katerina Ivanovna at once. She was a rather
[927]       tall, slim and graceful woman, terribly emaciated, with magnificent
[928]       dark brown hair and with a hectic flush in her cheeks. She was pacing
[929]       up and down in her little room, pressing her hands against her chest;
[930]       her lips were parched and her breathing came in nervous broken gasps.
[931]       Her eyes glittered as in fever and looked about with a harsh immovable
[932]       stare. And that consumptive and excited face with the last flickering
[933]       light of the candle-end playing upon it made a sickening impression.
[934]       She seemed to Raskolnikov about thirty years old and was certainly a
[935]       strange wife for Marmeladov. . . . She had not heard them and did not
[936]       notice them coming in. She seemed to be lost in thought, hearing and
[937]       seeing nothing. The room was close, but she had not opened the window;
[938]       a stench rose from the staircase, but the door on to the stairs was
[939]       not closed. From the inner rooms clouds of tobacco smoke floated in,
[940]       she kept coughing, but did not close the door. The youngest child, a
[941]       girl of six, was asleep, sitting curled up on the floor with her head
[942]       on the sofa. A boy a year older stood crying and shaking in the
[943]       corner, probably he had just had a beating. Beside him stood a girl of
[944]       nine years old, tall and thin, wearing a thin and ragged chemise with
[945]       an ancient cashmere pelisse flung over her bare shoulders, long
[946]       outgrown and barely reaching her knees. Her arm, as thin as a stick,
[947]       was round her brother's neck. She was trying to comfort him,
[948]       whispering something to him, and doing all she could to keep him from
[949]       whimpering again. At the same time her large dark eyes, which looked
[950]       larger still from the thinness of her frightened face, were watching
[951]       her mother with alarm. Marmeladov did not enter the door, but dropped
[952]       on his knees in the very doorway, pushing Raskolnikov in front of him.
[953]       The woman seeing a stranger stopped indifferently facing him, coming
[954]       to herself for a moment and apparently wondering what he had come for.
[955]       But evidently she decided that he was going into the next room, as he
[956]       had to pass through hers to get there. Taking no further notice of
[957]       him, she walked towards the outer door to close it and uttered a
[958]       sudden scream on seeing her husband on his knees in the doorway.
[960]       "Ah!" she cried out in a frenzy, "he has come back! The criminal! the
[961]       monster! . . . And where is the money? What's in your pocket, show me!
[962]       And your clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is
[963]       the money! Speak!"
[965]       And she fell to searching him. Marmeladov submissively and obediently
[966]       held up both arms to facilitate the search. Not a farthing was there.
[968]       "Where is the money?" she cried--"Mercy on us, can he have drunk it
[969]       all? There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest!" and in a
[970]       fury she seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room.
[971]       Marmeladov seconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees.
[973]       "And this is a consolation to me! This does not hurt me, but is a
[974]       positive con-so-la-tion, ho-nou-red sir," he called out, shaken to and
[975]       fro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead.
[976]       The child asleep on the floor woke up, and began to cry. The boy in
[977]       the corner losing all control began trembling and screaming and rushed
[978]       to his sister in violent terror, almost in a fit. The eldest girl was
[979]       shaking like a leaf.
[981]       "He's drunk it! he's drunk it all," the poor woman screamed in despair
[982]       --"and his clothes are gone! And they are