Prestuplenie i nakazanie. English

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  CHAPTER IV

  Raskolnikov went straight to the house on the canal bank where Sonialived. It was an old green house of three storeys. He found theporter and obtained from him vague directions as to the whereabouts ofKapernaumov, the tailor. Having found in the corner of the courtyardthe entrance to the dark and narrow staircase, he mounted to the secondfloor and came out into a gallery that ran round the whole second storeyover the yard. While he was wandering in the darkness, uncertain whereto turn for Kapernaumov's door, a door opened three paces from him; hemechanically took hold of it.

  "Who is there?" a woman's voice asked uneasily.

  "It's I... come to see you," answered Raskolnikov and he walked into thetiny entry.

  On a broken chair stood a candle in a battered copper candlestick.

  "It's you! Good heavens!" cried Sonia weakly, and she stood rooted tothe spot.

  "Which is your room? This way?" and Raskolnikov, trying not to look ather, hastened in.

  A minute later Sonia, too, came in with the candle, set down thecandlestick and, completely disconcerted, stood before him inexpressiblyagitated and apparently frightened by his unexpected visit. The colourrushed suddenly to her pale face and tears came into her eyes... Shefelt sick and ashamed and happy, too.... Raskolnikov turned away quicklyand sat on a chair by the table. He scanned the room in a rapid glance.

  It was a large but exceedingly low-pitched room, the only one let by theKapernaumovs, to whose rooms a closed door led in the wall on the left.In the opposite side on the right hand wall was another door, alwayskept locked. That led to the next flat, which formed a separate lodging.Sonia's room looked like a barn; it was a very irregular quadrangle andthis gave it a grotesque appearance. A wall with three windows lookingout on to the canal ran aslant so that one corner formed a very acuteangle, and it was difficult to see in it without very strong light.The other corner was disproportionately obtuse. There was scarcely anyfurniture in the big room: in the corner on the right was a bedstead,beside it, nearest the door, a chair. A plain, deal table covered by ablue cloth stood against the same wall, close to the door into the otherflat. Two rush-bottom chairs stood by the table. On the oppositewall near the acute angle stood a small plain wooden chest of drawerslooking, as it were, lost in a desert. That was all there was in theroom. The yellow, scratched and shabby wall-paper was black in thecorners. It must have been damp and full of fumes in the winter. Therewas every sign of poverty; even the bedstead had no curtain.

  Sonia looked in silence at her visitor, who was so attentively andunceremoniously scrutinising her room, and even began at last to tremblewith terror, as though she was standing before her judge and the arbiterof her destinies.

  "I am late.... It's eleven, isn't it?" he asked, still not lifting hiseyes.

  "Yes," muttered Sonia, "oh yes, it is," she added, hastily, as though inthat lay her means of escape. "My landlady's clock has just struck... Iheard it myself...."

  "I've come to you for the last time," Raskolnikov went on gloomily,although this was the first time. "I may perhaps not see you again..."

  "Are you... going away?"

  "I don't know... to-morrow...."

  "Then you are not coming to Katerina Ivanovna to-morrow?" Sonia's voiceshook.

  "I don't know. I shall know to-morrow morning.... Never mind that: I'vecome to say one word...."

  He raised his brooding eyes to her and suddenly noticed that he wassitting down while she was all the while standing before him.

  "Why are you standing? Sit down," he said in a changed voice, gentle andfriendly.

  She sat down. He looked kindly and almost compassionately at her.

  "How thin you are! What a hand! Quite transparent, like a dead hand."

  He took her hand. Sonia smiled faintly.

  "I have always been like that," she said.

  "Even when you lived at home?"

  "Yes."

  "Of course, you were," he added abruptly and the expression of his faceand the sound of his voice changed again suddenly.

  He looked round him once more.

  "You rent this room from the Kapernaumovs?"

  "Yes...."

  "They live there, through that door?"

  "Yes.... They have another room like this."

  "All in one room?"

  "Yes."

  "I should be afraid in your room at night," he observed gloomily.

  "They are very good people, very kind," answered Sonia, who still seemedbewildered, "and all the furniture, everything... everything is theirs.And they are very kind and the children, too, often come to see me."

  "They all stammer, don't they?"

  "Yes.... He stammers and he's lame. And his wife, too.... It's notexactly that she stammers, but she can't speak plainly. She is a verykind woman. And he used to be a house serf. And there are sevenchildren... and it's only the eldest one that stammers and the othersare simply ill... but they don't stammer.... But where did you hearabout them?" she added with some surprise.

  "Your father told me, then. He told me all about you.... And how youwent out at six o'clock and came back at nine and how Katerina Ivanovnaknelt down by your bed."

  Sonia was confused.

  "I fancied I saw him to-day," she whispered hesitatingly.

  "Whom?"

  "Father. I was walking in the street, out there at the corner, about teno'clock and he seemed to be walking in front. It looked just like him. Iwanted to go to Katerina Ivanovna...."

  "You were walking in the streets?"

  "Yes," Sonia whispered abruptly, again overcome with confusion andlooking down.

  "Katerina Ivanovna used to beat you, I dare say?"

  "Oh no, what are you saying? No!" Sonia looked at him almost withdismay.

  "You love her, then?"

  "Love her? Of course!" said Sonia with plaintive emphasis, and sheclasped her hands in distress. "Ah, you don't.... If you only knew!You see, she is quite like a child.... Her mind is quite unhinged, yousee... from sorrow. And how clever she used to be... how generous... howkind! Ah, you don't understand, you don't understand!"

  Sonia said this as though in despair, wringing her hands in excitementand distress. Her pale cheeks flushed, there was a look of anguish inher eyes. It was clear that she was stirred to the very depths, thatshe was longing to speak, to champion, to express something. A sortof _insatiable_ compassion, if one may so express it, was reflected inevery feature of her face.

  "Beat me! how can you? Good heavens, beat me! And if she did beat me,what then? What of it? You know nothing, nothing about it.... She is sounhappy... ah, how unhappy! And ill.... She is seeking righteousness,she is pure. She has such faith that there must be righteousnesseverywhere and she expects it.... And if you were to torture her, shewouldn't do wrong. She doesn't see that it's impossible for people tobe righteous and she is angry at it. Like a child, like a child. She isgood!"

  "And what will happen to you?"

  Sonia looked at him inquiringly.

  "They are left on your hands, you see. They were all on your handsbefore, though.... And your father came to you to beg for drink. Well,how will it be now?"

  "I don't know," Sonia articulated mournfully.

  "Will they stay there?"

  "I don't know.... They are in debt for the lodging, but the landlady,I hear, said to-day that she wanted to get rid of them, and KaterinaIvanovna says that she won't stay another minute."

  "How is it she is so bold? She relies upon you?"

  "Oh, no, don't talk like that.... We are one, we live like one." Soniawas agitated again and even angry, as though a canary or some otherlittle bird were to be angry. "And what could she do? What, what couldshe do?" she persisted, getting hot and excited. "And how she criedto-day! Her mind is unhinged, haven't you noticed it? At one minute sheis worrying like a child that everything should be right to-morrow, thelunch and all that.... Then she is wringing her hands, spitting blood,weeping, and all at once she will begin knocking her head against thewall, in
despair. Then she will be comforted again. She builds all herhopes on you; she says that you will help her now and that she willborrow a little money somewhere and go to her native town with me andset up a boarding school for the daughters of gentlemen and take me tosuperintend it, and we will begin a new splendid life. And she kissesand hugs me, comforts me, and you know she has such faith, such faith inher fancies! One can't contradict her. And all the day long she has beenwashing, cleaning, mending. She dragged the wash tub into the room withher feeble hands and sank on the bed, gasping for breath. We went thismorning to the shops to buy shoes for Polenka and Lida for theirs arequite worn out. Only the money we'd reckoned wasn't enough, not nearlyenough. And she picked out such dear little boots, for she has taste,you don't know. And there in the shop she burst out crying before theshopmen because she hadn't enough.... Ah, it was sad to see her...."

  "Well, after that I can understand your living like this," Raskolnikovsaid with a bitter smile.

  "And aren't you sorry for them? Aren't you sorry?" Sonia flew at himagain. "Why, I know, you gave your last penny yourself, though you'dseen nothing of it, and if you'd seen everything, oh dear! And howoften, how often I've brought her to tears! Only last week! Yes, I! Onlya week before his death. I was cruel! And how often I've done it! Ah,I've been wretched at the thought of it all day!"

  Sonia wrung her hands as she spoke at the pain of remembering it.

  "You were cruel?"

  "Yes, I--I. I went to see them," she went on, weeping, "and father said,'read me something, Sonia, my head aches, read to me, here's a book.' Hehad a book he had got from Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, he livesthere, he always used to get hold of such funny books. And I said, 'Ican't stay,' as I didn't want to read, and I'd gone in chiefly to showKaterina Ivanovna some collars. Lizaveta, the pedlar, sold me somecollars and cuffs cheap, pretty, new, embroidered ones. KaterinaIvanovna liked them very much; she put them on and looked at herselfin the glass and was delighted with them. 'Make me a present of them,Sonia,' she said, 'please do.' '_Please do_,' she said, she wanted themso much. And when could she wear them? They just reminded her of her oldhappy days. She looked at herself in the glass, admired herself, and shehas no clothes at all, no things of her own, hasn't had all these years!And she never asks anyone for anything; she is proud, she'd sooner giveaway everything. And these she asked for, she liked them so much. And Iwas sorry to give them. 'What use are they to you, Katerina Ivanovna?' Isaid. I spoke like that to her, I ought not to have said that! She gaveme such a look. And she was so grieved, so grieved at my refusing her.And it was so sad to see.... And she was not grieved for the collars,but for my refusing, I saw that. Ah, if only I could bring it all back,change it, take back those words! Ah, if I... but it's nothing to you!"

  "Did you know Lizaveta, the pedlar?"

  "Yes.... Did you know her?" Sonia asked with some surprise.

  "Katerina Ivanovna is in consumption, rapid consumption; she will soondie," said Raskolnikov after a pause, without answering her question.

  "Oh, no, no, no!"

  And Sonia unconsciously clutched both his hands, as though imploringthat she should not.

  "But it will be better if she does die."

  "No, not better, not at all better!" Sonia unconsciously repeated indismay.

  "And the children? What can you do except take them to live with you?"

  "Oh, I don't know," cried Sonia, almost in despair, and she put herhands to her head.

  It was evident that that idea had very often occurred to her before andhe had only roused it again.

  "And, what, if even now, while Katerina Ivanovna is alive, you get illand are taken to the hospital, what will happen then?" he persistedpitilessly.

  "How can you? That cannot be!"

  And Sonia's face worked with awful terror.

  "Cannot be?" Raskolnikov went on with a harsh smile. "You are notinsured against it, are you? What will happen to them then? They willbe in the street, all of them, she will cough and beg and knock her headagainst some wall, as she did to-day, and the children will cry....Then she will fall down, be taken to the police station and to thehospital, she will die, and the children..."

  "Oh, no.... God will not let it be!" broke at last from Sonia'soverburdened bosom.

  She listened, looking imploringly at him, clasping her hands in dumbentreaty, as though it all depended upon him.

  Raskolnikov got up and began to walk about the room. A minute passed.Sonia was standing with her hands and her head hanging in terribledejection.

  "And can't you save? Put by for a rainy day?" he asked, stoppingsuddenly before her.

  "No," whispered Sonia.

  "Of course not. Have you tried?" he added almost ironically.

  "Yes."

  "And it didn't come off! Of course not! No need to ask."

  And again he paced the room. Another minute passed.

  "You don't get money every day?"

  Sonia was more confused than ever and colour rushed into her face again.

  "No," she whispered with a painful effort.

  "It will be the same with Polenka, no doubt," he said suddenly.

  "No, no! It can't be, no!" Sonia cried aloud in desperation, as thoughshe had been stabbed. "God would not allow anything so awful!"

  "He lets others come to it."

  "No, no! God will protect her, God!" she repeated beside herself.

  "But, perhaps, there is no God at all," Raskolnikov answered with a sortof malignance, laughed and looked at her.

  Sonia's face suddenly changed; a tremor passed over it. She looked athim with unutterable reproach, tried to say something, but could notspeak and broke into bitter, bitter sobs, hiding her face in her hands.

  "You say Katerina Ivanovna's mind is unhinged; your own mind isunhinged," he said after a brief silence.

  Five minutes passed. He still paced up and down the room in silence, notlooking at her. At last he went up to her; his eyes glittered. He puthis two hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her tearfulface. His eyes were hard, feverish and piercing, his lips weretwitching. All at once he bent down quickly and dropping to theground, kissed her foot. Sonia drew back from him as from a madman. Andcertainly he looked like a madman.

  "What are you doing to me?" she muttered, turning pale, and a suddenanguish clutched at her heart.

  He stood up at once.

  "I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering ofhumanity," he said wildly and walked away to the window. "Listen," headded, turning to her a minute later. "I said just now to an insolentman that he was not worth your little finger... and that I did my sisterhonour making her sit beside you."

  "Ach, you said that to them! And in her presence?" cried Sonia,frightened. "Sit down with me! An honour! Why, I'm... dishonourable....Ah, why did you say that?"

  "It was not because of your dishonour and your sin I said that of you,but because of your great suffering. But you are a great sinner, that'strue," he added almost solemnly, "and your worst sin is that you havedestroyed and betrayed yourself _for nothing_. Isn't that fearful? Isn'tit fearful that you are living in this filth which you loathe so, and atthe same time you know yourself (you've only to open your eyes) that youare not helping anyone by it, not saving anyone from anything? Tell me,"he went on almost in a frenzy, "how this shame and degradation can existin you side by side with other, opposite, holy feelings? It would bebetter, a thousand times better and wiser to leap into the water and endit all!"

  "But what would become of them?" Sonia asked faintly, gazing at him witheyes of anguish, but not seeming surprised at his suggestion.

  Raskolnikov looked strangely at her. He read it all in her face; so shemust have had that thought already, perhaps many times, and earnestlyshe had thought out in her despair how to end it and so earnestly, thatnow she scarcely wondered at his suggestion. She had not even noticedthe cruelty of his words. (The significance of his reproaches and hispeculiar attitude to her shame she had, of course, not not
iced either,and that, too, was clear to him.) But he saw how monstrously the thoughtof her disgraceful, shameful position was torturing her and had longtortured her. "What, what," he thought, "could hitherto have hinderedher from putting an end to it?" Only then he realised what those poorlittle orphan children and that pitiful half-crazy Katerina Ivanovna,knocking her head against the wall in her consumption, meant for Sonia.

  But, nevertheless, it was clear to him again that with her character andthe amount of education she had after all received, she could not in anycase remain so. He was still confronted by the question, how could shehave remained so long in that position without going out of her mind,since she could not bring herself to jump into the water? Of course heknew that Sonia's position was an exceptional case, though unhappily notunique and not infrequent, indeed; but that very exceptionalness, hertinge of education, her previous life might, one would have thought,have killed her at the first step on that revolting path. What held herup--surely not depravity? All that infamy had obviously only touchedher mechanically, not one drop of real depravity had penetrated to herheart; he saw that. He saw through her as she stood before him....

  "There are three ways before her," he thought, "the canal, the madhouse,or... at last to sink into depravity which obscures the mind and turnsthe heart to stone."

  The last idea was the most revolting, but he was a sceptic, he wasyoung, abstract, and therefore cruel, and so he could not help believingthat the last end was the most likely.

  "But can that be true?" he cried to himself. "Can that creature who hasstill preserved the purity of her spirit be consciously drawn at lastinto that sink of filth and iniquity? Can the process already havebegun? Can it be that she has only been able to bear it till now,because vice has begun to be less loathsome to her? No, no, that cannotbe!" he cried, as Sonia had just before. "No, what has kept her from thecanal till now is the idea of sin and they, the children.... And if shehas not gone out of her mind... but who says she has not gone out of hermind? Is she in her senses? Can one talk, can one reason as she does?How can she sit on the edge of the abyss of loathsomeness into which sheis slipping and refuse to listen when she is told of danger? Does sheexpect a miracle? No doubt she does. Doesn't that all mean madness?"

  He stayed obstinately at that thought. He liked that explanation indeedbetter than any other. He began looking more intently at her.

  "So you pray to God a great deal, Sonia?" he asked her.

  Sonia did not speak; he stood beside her waiting for an answer.

  "What should I be without God?" she whispered rapidly, forcibly,glancing at him with suddenly flashing eyes, and squeezing his hand.

  "Ah, so that is it!" he thought.

  "And what does God do for you?" he asked, probing her further.

  Sonia was silent a long while, as though she could not answer. Her weakchest kept heaving with emotion.

  "Be silent! Don't ask! You don't deserve!" she cried suddenly, lookingsternly and wrathfully at him.

  "That's it, that's it," he repeated to himself.

  "He does everything," she whispered quickly, looking down again.

  "That's the way out! That's the explanation," he decided, scrutinisingher with eager curiosity, with a new, strange, almost morbid feeling.He gazed at that pale, thin, irregular, angular little face, those softblue eyes, which could flash with such fire, such stern energy, thatlittle body still shaking with indignation and anger--and it all seemedto him more and more strange, almost impossible. "She is a religiousmaniac!" he repeated to himself.

  There was a book lying on the chest of drawers. He had noticed it everytime he paced up and down the room. Now he took it up and looked at it.It was the New Testament in the Russian translation. It was bound inleather, old and worn.

  "Where did you get that?" he called to her across the room.

  She was still standing in the same place, three steps from the table.

  "It was brought me," she answered, as it were unwillingly, not lookingat him.

  "Who brought it?"

  "Lizaveta, I asked her for it."

  "Lizaveta! strange!" he thought.

  Everything about Sonia seemed to him stranger and more wonderful everymoment. He carried the book to the candle and began to turn over thepages.

  "Where is the story of Lazarus?" he asked suddenly.

  Sonia looked obstinately at the ground and would not answer. She wasstanding sideways to the table.

  "Where is the raising of Lazarus? Find it for me, Sonia."

  She stole a glance at him.

  "You are not looking in the right place.... It's in the fourth gospel,"she whispered sternly, without looking at him.

  "Find it and read it to me," he said. He sat down with his elbow on thetable, leaned his head on his hand and looked away sullenly, prepared tolisten.

  "In three weeks' time they'll welcome me in the madhouse! I shall bethere if I am not in a worse place," he muttered to himself.

  Sonia heard Raskolnikov's request distrustfully and moved hesitatinglyto the table. She took the book however.

  "Haven't you read it?" she asked, looking up at him across the table.

  Her voice became sterner and sterner.

  "Long ago.... When I was at school. Read!"

  "And haven't you heard it in church?"

  "I... haven't been. Do you often go?"

  "N-no," whispered Sonia.

  Raskolnikov smiled.

  "I understand.... And you won't go to your father's funeral to-morrow?"

  "Yes, I shall. I was at church last week, too... I had a requiemservice."

  "For whom?"

  "For Lizaveta. She was killed with an axe."

  His nerves were more and more strained. His head began to go round.

  "Were you friends with Lizaveta?"

  "Yes.... She was good... she used to come... not often... shecouldn't.... We used to read together and... talk. She will see God."

  The last phrase sounded strange in his ears. And here was something newagain: the mysterious meetings with Lizaveta and both of them--religiousmaniacs.

  "I shall be a religious maniac myself soon! It's infectious!"

  "Read!" he cried irritably and insistently.

  Sonia still hesitated. Her heart was throbbing. She hardly dared to readto him. He looked almost with exasperation at the "unhappy lunatic."

  "What for? You don't believe?..." she whispered softly and as it werebreathlessly.

  "Read! I want you to," he persisted. "You used to read to Lizaveta."

  Sonia opened the book and found the place. Her hands were shaking, hervoice failed her. Twice she tried to begin and could not bring out thefirst syllable.

  "Now a certain man was sick named Lazarus of Bethany..." she forcedherself at last to read, but at the third word her voice broke like anoverstrained string. There was a catch in her breath.

  Raskolnikov saw in part why Sonia could not bring herself to read to himand the more he saw this, the more roughly and irritably he insisted onher doing so. He understood only too well how painful it was for herto betray and unveil all that was her _own_. He understood that thesefeelings really were her _secret treasure_, which she had kept perhapsfor years, perhaps from childhood, while she lived with an unhappyfather and a distracted stepmother crazed by grief, in the midst ofstarving children and unseemly abuse and reproaches. But at the sametime he knew now and knew for certain that, although it filled her withdread and suffering, yet she had a tormenting desire to read and to readto _him_ that he might hear it, and to read _now_ whatever might come ofit!... He read this in her eyes, he could see it in her intense emotion.She mastered herself, controlled the spasm in her throat and went onreading the eleventh chapter of St. John. She went on to the nineteenthverse:

  "And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary to comfort them concerningtheir brother.

  "Then Martha as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming went and metHim: but Mary sat still in the house.

  "Then said Martha unto Je
sus, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brotherhad not died.

  "But I know that even now whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will giveit Thee...."

  Then she stopped again with a shamefaced feeling that her voice wouldquiver and break again.

  "Jesus said unto her, thy brother shall rise again.

  "Martha saith unto Him, I know that he shall rise again in theresurrection, at the last day.

  "Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life: he thatbelieveth in Me though he were dead, yet shall he live.

  "And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die. Believestthou this?

  "She saith unto Him,"

  (And drawing a painful breath, Sonia read distinctly and forcibly asthough she were making a public confession of faith.)

  "Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God Whichshould come into the world."

  She stopped and looked up quickly at him, but controlling herself wenton reading. Raskolnikov sat without moving, his elbows on the table andhis eyes turned away. She read to the thirty-second verse.

  "Then when Mary was come where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell down atHis feet, saying unto Him, Lord if Thou hadst been here, my brother hadnot died.

  "When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping whichcame with her, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled,

  "And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto Him, Lord, come andsee.

  "Jesus wept.

  "Then said the Jews, behold how He loved him!

  "And some of them said, could not this Man which opened the eyes of theblind, have caused that even this man should not have died?"

  Raskolnikov turned and looked at her with emotion. Yes, he had known it!She was trembling in a real physical fever. He had expected it. She wasgetting near the story of the greatest miracle and a feeling of immensetriumph came over her. Her voice rang out like a bell; triumph and joygave it power. The lines danced before her eyes, but she knew what shewas reading by heart. At the last verse "Could not this Man which openedthe eyes of the blind..." dropping her voice she passionately reproducedthe doubt, the reproach and censure of the blind disbelieving Jews, whoin another moment would fall at His feet as though struck bythunder, sobbing and believing.... "And _he, he_--too, is blinded andunbelieving, he, too, will hear, he, too, will believe, yes, yes! Atonce, now," was what she was dreaming, and she was quivering with happyanticipation.

  "Jesus therefore again groaning in Himself cometh to the grave. It was acave, and a stone lay upon it.

  "Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that wasdead, saith unto Him, Lord by this time he stinketh: for he hath beendead four days."

  She laid emphasis on the word _four_.

  "Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldestbelieve, thou shouldest see the glory of God?

  "Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid.And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thouhast heard Me.

  "And I knew that Thou hearest Me always; but because of the people whichstand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me.

  "And when He thus had spoken, He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, comeforth.

  "And he that was dead came forth."

  (She read loudly, cold and trembling with ecstasy, as though she wereseeing it before her eyes.)

  "Bound hand and foot with graveclothes; and his face was bound aboutwith a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him and let him go.

  "Then many of the Jews which came to Mary and had seen the things whichJesus did believed on Him."

  She could read no more, closed the book and got up from her chairquickly.

  "That is all about the raising of Lazarus," she whispered severely andabruptly, and turning away she stood motionless, not daring to raiseher eyes to him. She still trembled feverishly. The candle-end wasflickering out in the battered candlestick, dimly lighting up in thepoverty-stricken room the murderer and the harlot who had so strangelybeen reading together the eternal book. Five minutes or more passed.

  "I came to speak of something," Raskolnikov said aloud, frowning. He gotup and went to Sonia. She lifted her eyes to him in silence. His facewas particularly stern and there was a sort of savage determination init.

  "I have abandoned my family to-day," he said, "my mother and sister. Iam not going to see them. I've broken with them completely."

  "What for?" asked Sonia amazed. Her recent meeting with his mother andsister had left a great impression which she could not analyse. Sheheard his news almost with horror.

  "I have only you now," he added. "Let us go together.... I've come toyou, we are both accursed, let us go our way together!"

  His eyes glittered "as though he were mad," Sonia thought, in her turn.

  "Go where?" she asked in alarm and she involuntarily stepped back.

  "How do I know? I only know it's the same road, I know that and nothingmore. It's the same goal!"

  She looked at him and understood nothing. She knew only that he wasterribly, infinitely unhappy.

  "No one of them will understand, if you tell them, but I haveunderstood. I need you, that is why I have come to you."

  "I don't understand," whispered Sonia.

  "You'll understand later. Haven't you done the same? You, too, havetransgressed... have had the strength to transgress. You have laidhands on yourself, you have destroyed a life... _your own_ (it's all thesame!). You might have lived in spirit and understanding, but you'llend in the Hay Market.... But you won't be able to stand it, and ifyou remain alone you'll go out of your mind like me. You are like a madcreature already. So we must go together on the same road! Let us go!"

  "What for? What's all this for?" said Sonia, strangely and violentlyagitated by his words.

  "What for? Because you can't remain like this, that's why! You must lookthings straight in the face at last, and not weep like a child and crythat God won't allow it. What will happen, if you should really be takento the hospital to-morrow? She is mad and in consumption, she'll soondie and the children? Do you mean to tell me Polenka won't come togrief? Haven't you seen children here at the street corners sent outby their mothers to beg? I've found out where those mothers live and inwhat surroundings. Children can't remain children there! At seven thechild is vicious and a thief. Yet children, you know, are the image ofChrist: 'theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.' He bade us honour and lovethem, they are the humanity of the future...."

  "What's to be done, what's to be done?" repeated Sonia, weepinghysterically and wringing her hands.

  "What's to be done? Break what must be broken, once for all, that's all,and take the suffering on oneself. What, you don't understand? You'llunderstand later.... Freedom and power, and above all, power! Over alltrembling creation and all the ant-heap!... That's the goal, rememberthat! That's my farewell message. Perhaps it's the last time I shallspeak to you. If I don't come to-morrow, you'll hear of it all, and thenremember these words. And some day later on, in years to come, you'llunderstand perhaps what they meant. If I come to-morrow, I'll tell youwho killed Lizaveta.... Good-bye."

  Sonia started with terror.

  "Why, do you know who killed her?" she asked, chilled with horror,looking wildly at him.

  "I know and will tell... you, only you. I have chosen you out. I'm notcoming to you to ask forgiveness, but simply to tell you. I chose youout long ago to hear this, when your father talked of you and whenLizaveta was alive, I thought of it. Good-bye, don't shake hands.To-morrow!"

  He went out. Sonia gazed at him as at a madman. But she herself was likeone insane and felt it. Her head was going round.

  "Good heavens, how does he know who killed Lizaveta? What did thosewords mean? It's awful!" But at the same time _the idea_ did not enterher head, not for a moment! "Oh, he must be terribly unhappy!... He hasabandoned his mother and sister.... What for? What has happened? Andwhat had he in his mind? What did he say to her? He had kissed h
er footand said... said (yes, he had said it clearly) that he could not livewithout her.... Oh, merciful heavens!"

  Sonia spent the whole night feverish and delirious. She jumped up fromtime to time, wept and wrung her hands, then sank again into feverishsleep and dreamt of Polenka, Katerina Ivanovna and Lizaveta, of readingthe gospel and him... him with pale face, with burning eyes... kissingher feet, weeping.

  On the other side of the door on the right, which divided Sonia's roomfrom Madame Resslich's flat, was a room which had long stood empty. Acard was fixed on the gate and a notice stuck in the windows over thecanal advertising it to let. Sonia had long been accustomed to theroom's being uninhabited. But all that time Mr. Svidrigailov had beenstanding, listening at the door of the empty room. When Raskolnikov wentout he stood still, thought a moment, went on tiptoe to his own roomwhich adjoined the empty one, brought a chair and noiselessly carried itto the door that led to Sonia's room. The conversation had struck himas interesting and remarkable, and he had greatly enjoyed it--so much sothat he brought a chair that he might not in the future, to-morrow, forinstance, have to endure the inconvenience of standing a whole hour, butmight listen in comfort.