Prestuplenie i nakazanie. English

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  CHAPTER VI

  When he remembered the scene afterwards, this is how Raskolnikov saw it.

  The noise behind the door increased, and suddenly the door was opened alittle.

  "What is it?" cried Porfiry Petrovitch, annoyed. "Why, I gave orders..."

  For an instant there was no answer, but it was evident that there wereseveral persons at the door, and that they were apparently pushingsomebody back.

  "What is it?" Porfiry Petrovitch repeated, uneasily.

  "The prisoner Nikolay has been brought," someone answered.

  "He is not wanted! Take him away! Let him wait! What's he doing here?How irregular!" cried Porfiry, rushing to the door.

  "But he..." began the same voice, and suddenly ceased.

  Two seconds, not more, were spent in actual struggle, then someone gavea violent shove, and then a man, very pale, strode into the room.

  This man's appearance was at first sight very strange. He staredstraight before him, as though seeing nothing. There was a determinedgleam in his eyes; at the same time there was a deathly pallor in hisface, as though he were being led to the scaffold. His white lips werefaintly twitching.

  He was dressed like a workman and was of medium height, very young,slim, his hair cut in round crop, with thin spare features. The man whomhe had thrust back followed him into the room and succeeded in seizinghim by the shoulder; he was a warder; but Nikolay pulled his arm away.

  Several persons crowded inquisitively into the doorway. Some of themtried to get in. All this took place almost instantaneously.

  "Go away, it's too soon! Wait till you are sent for!... Why have youbrought him so soon?" Porfiry Petrovitch muttered, extremely annoyed,and as it were thrown out of his reckoning.

  But Nikolay suddenly knelt down.

  "What's the matter?" cried Porfiry, surprised.

  "I am guilty! Mine is the sin! I am the murderer," Nikolay articulatedsuddenly, rather breathless, but speaking fairly loudly.

  For ten seconds there was silence as though all had been struck dumb;even the warder stepped back, mechanically retreated to the door, andstood immovable.

  "What is it?" cried Porfiry Petrovitch, recovering from his momentarystupefaction.

  "I... am the murderer," repeated Nikolay, after a brief pause.

  "What... you... what... whom did you kill?" Porfiry Petrovitch wasobviously bewildered.

  Nikolay again was silent for a moment.

  "Alyona Ivanovna and her sister Lizaveta Ivanovna, I... killed... withan axe. Darkness came over me," he added suddenly, and was again silent.

  He still remained on his knees. Porfiry Petrovitch stood for somemoments as though meditating, but suddenly roused himself and waved backthe uninvited spectators. They instantly vanished and closed the door.Then he looked towards Raskolnikov, who was standing in the corner,staring wildly at Nikolay and moved towards him, but stopped short,looked from Nikolay to Raskolnikov and then again at Nikolay, andseeming unable to restrain himself darted at the latter.

  "You're in too great a hurry," he shouted at him, almost angrily. "Ididn't ask you what came over you.... Speak, did you kill them?"

  "I am the murderer.... I want to give evidence," Nikolay pronounced.

  "Ach! What did you kill them with?"

  "An axe. I had it ready."

  "Ach, he is in a hurry! Alone?"

  Nikolay did not understand the question.

  "Did you do it alone?"

  "Yes, alone. And Mitka is not guilty and had no share in it."

  "Don't be in a hurry about Mitka! A-ach! How was it you ran downstairslike that at the time? The porters met you both!"

  "It was to put them off the scent... I ran after Mitka," Nikolay repliedhurriedly, as though he had prepared the answer.

  "I knew it!" cried Porfiry, with vexation. "It's not his own tale he istelling," he muttered as though to himself, and suddenly his eyes restedon Raskolnikov again.

  He was apparently so taken up with Nikolay that for a moment he hadforgotten Raskolnikov. He was a little taken aback.

  "My dear Rodion Romanovitch, excuse me!" he flew up to him, "this won'tdo; I'm afraid you must go... it's no good your staying... I will...you see, what a surprise!... Good-bye!"

  And taking him by the arm, he showed him to the door.

  "I suppose you didn't expect it?" said Raskolnikov who, though he hadnot yet fully grasped the situation, had regained his courage.

  "You did not expect it either, my friend. See how your hand istrembling! He-he!"

  "You're trembling, too, Porfiry Petrovitch!"

  "Yes, I am; I didn't expect it."

  They were already at the door; Porfiry was impatient for Raskolnikov tobe gone.

  "And your little surprise, aren't you going to show it to me?"Raskolnikov said, sarcastically.

  "Why, his teeth are chattering as he asks, he-he! You are an ironicalperson! Come, till we meet!"

  "I believe we can say _good-bye_!"

  "That's in God's hands," muttered Porfiry, with an unnatural smile.

  As he walked through the office, Raskolnikov noticed that many peoplewere looking at him. Among them he saw the two porters from _the_ house,whom he had invited that night to the police station. They stood therewaiting. But he was no sooner on the stairs than he heard the voice ofPorfiry Petrovitch behind him. Turning round, he saw the latter runningafter him, out of breath.

  "One word, Rodion Romanovitch; as to all the rest, it's in God's hands,but as a matter of form there are some questions I shall have to askyou... so we shall meet again, shan't we?"

  And Porfiry stood still, facing him with a smile.

  "Shan't we?" he added again.

  He seemed to want to say something more, but could not speak out.

  "You must forgive me, Porfiry Petrovitch, for what has just passed... Ilost my temper," began Raskolnikov, who had so far regained his couragethat he felt irresistibly inclined to display his coolness.

  "Don't mention it, don't mention it," Porfiry replied, almost gleefully."I myself, too... I have a wicked temper, I admit it! But we shall meetagain. If it's God's will, we may see a great deal of one another."

  "And will get to know each other through and through?" addedRaskolnikov.

  "Yes; know each other through and through," assented Porfiry Petrovitch,and he screwed up his eyes, looking earnestly at Raskolnikov. "Nowyou're going to a birthday party?"

  "To a funeral."

  "Of course, the funeral! Take care of yourself, and get well."

  "I don't know what to wish you," said Raskolnikov, who had begun todescend the stairs, but looked back again. "I should like to wish yousuccess, but your office is such a comical one."

  "Why comical?" Porfiry Petrovitch had turned to go, but he seemed toprick up his ears at this.

  "Why, how you must have been torturing and harassing that poor Nikolaypsychologically, after your fashion, till he confessed! You must havebeen at him day and night, proving to him that he was the murderer, andnow that he has confessed, you'll begin vivisecting him again. 'You arelying,' you'll say. 'You are not the murderer! You can't be! It's notyour own tale you are telling!' You must admit it's a comical business!"

  "He-he-he! You noticed then that I said to Nikolay just now that it wasnot his own tale he was telling?"

  "How could I help noticing it!"

  "He-he! You are quick-witted. You notice everything! You've really aplayful mind! And you always fasten on the comic side... he-he! They saythat was the marked characteristic of Gogol, among the writers."

  "Yes, of Gogol."

  "Yes, of Gogol.... I shall look forward to meeting you."

  "So shall I."

  Raskolnikov walked straight home. He was so muddled and bewildered thaton getting home he sat for a quarter of an hour on the sofa, trying tocollect his thoughts. He did not attempt to think about Nikolay; hewas stupefied; he felt that his confession was something inexplicable,amazing--something beyond his understanding. But Nikolay's confessionwas
an actual fact. The consequences of this fact were clear to him atonce, its falsehood could not fail to be discovered, and then theywould be after him again. Till then, at least, he was free and must dosomething for himself, for the danger was imminent.

  But how imminent? His position gradually became clear to him.Remembering, sketchily, the main outlines of his recent scene withPorfiry, he could not help shuddering again with horror. Of course,he did not yet know all Porfiry's aims, he could not see into all hiscalculations. But he had already partly shown his hand, and no one knewbetter than Raskolnikov how terrible Porfiry's "lead" had been forhim. A little more and he _might_ have given himself away completely,circumstantially. Knowing his nervous temperament and from the firstglance seeing through him, Porfiry, though playing a bold game, wasbound to win. There's no denying that Raskolnikov had compromisedhimself seriously, but no _facts_ had come to light as yet; there wasnothing positive. But was he taking a true view of the position? Wasn'the mistaken? What had Porfiry been trying to get at? Had he really somesurprise prepared for him? And what was it? Had he really been expectingsomething or not? How would they have parted if it had not been for theunexpected appearance of Nikolay?

  Porfiry had shown almost all his cards--of course, he had riskedsomething in showing them--and if he had really had anything up hissleeve (Raskolnikov reflected), he would have shown that, too. What wasthat "surprise"? Was it a joke? Had it meant anything? Could it haveconcealed anything like a fact, a piece of positive evidence? Hisyesterday's visitor? What had become of him? Where was he to-day? IfPorfiry really had any evidence, it must be connected with him....

  He sat on the sofa with his elbows on his knees and his face hidden inhis hands. He was still shivering nervously. At last he got up, took hiscap, thought a minute, and went to the door.

  He had a sort of presentiment that for to-day, at least, he mightconsider himself out of danger. He had a sudden sense almost of joy; hewanted to make haste to Katerina Ivanovna's. He would be too late forthe funeral, of course, but he would be in time for the memorial dinner,and there at once he would see Sonia.

  He stood still, thought a moment, and a suffering smile came for amoment on to his lips.

  "To-day! To-day," he repeated to himself. "Yes, to-day! So it mustbe...."

  But as he was about to open the door, it began opening of itself. Hestarted and moved back. The door opened gently and slowly, and theresuddenly appeared a figure--yesterday's visitor _from underground_.

  The man stood in the doorway, looked at Raskolnikov without speaking,and took a step forward into the room. He was exactly the same asyesterday; the same figure, the same dress, but there was a great changein his face; he looked dejected and sighed deeply. If he had only puthis hand up to his cheek and leaned his head on one side he would havelooked exactly like a peasant woman.

  "What do you want?" asked Raskolnikov, numb with terror. The man wasstill silent, but suddenly he bowed down almost to the ground, touchingit with his finger.

  "What is it?" cried Raskolnikov.

  "I have sinned," the man articulated softly.

  "How?"

  "By evil thoughts."

  They looked at one another.

  "I was vexed. When you came, perhaps in drink, and bade the porters goto the police station and asked about the blood, I was vexed that theylet you go and took you for drunken. I was so vexed that I lost mysleep. And remembering the address we came here yesterday and asked foryou...."

  "Who came?" Raskolnikov interrupted, instantly beginning to recollect.

  "I did, I've wronged you."

  "Then you come from that house?"

  "I was standing at the gate with them... don't you remember? We havecarried on our trade in that house for years past. We cure and preparehides, we take work home... most of all I was vexed...."

  And the whole scene of the day before yesterday in the gateway cameclearly before Raskolnikov's mind; he recollected that there hadbeen several people there besides the porters, women among them.He remembered one voice had suggested taking him straight to thepolice-station. He could not recall the face of the speaker, and evennow he did not recognise it, but he remembered that he had turned roundand made him some answer....

  So this was the solution of yesterday's horror. The most awful thoughtwas that he had been actually almost lost, had almost done for himselfon account of such a _trivial_ circumstance. So this man could tellnothing except his asking about the flat and the blood stains. SoPorfiry, too, had nothing but that _delirium_, no facts but this_psychology_ which _cuts both ways_, nothing positive. So if no morefacts come to light (and they must not, they must not!) then... thenwhat can they do to him? How can they convict him, even if they arresthim? And Porfiry then had only just heard about the flat and had notknown about it before.

  "Was it you who told Porfiry... that I'd been there?" he cried, struckby a sudden idea.

  "What Porfiry?"

  "The head of the detective department?"

  "Yes. The porters did not go there, but I went."

  "To-day?"

  "I got there two minutes before you. And I heard, I heard it all, how heworried you."

  "Where? What? When?"

  "Why, in the next room. I was sitting there all the time."

  "What? Why, then you were the surprise? But how could it happen? Upon myword!"

  "I saw that the porters did not want to do what I said," began the man;"for it's too late, said they, and maybe he'll be angry that we did notcome at the time. I was vexed and I lost my sleep, and I began makinginquiries. And finding out yesterday where to go, I went to-day. Thefirst time I went he wasn't there, when I came an hour later he couldn'tsee me. I went the third time, and they showed me in. I informed him ofeverything, just as it happened, and he began skipping about the roomand punching himself on the chest. 'What do you scoundrels mean by it?If I'd known about it I should have arrested him!' Then he ran out,called somebody and began talking to him in the corner, then he turnedto me, scolding and questioning me. He scolded me a great deal; and Itold him everything, and I told him that you didn't dare to say a wordin answer to me yesterday and that you didn't recognise me. And hefell to running about again and kept hitting himself on the chest, andgetting angry and running about, and when you were announced he toldme to go into the next room. 'Sit there a bit,' he said. 'Don't move,whatever you may hear.' And he set a chair there for me and lockedme in. 'Perhaps,' he said, 'I may call you.' And when Nikolay'd beenbrought he let me out as soon as you were gone. 'I shall send for youagain and question you,' he said."

  "And did he question Nikolay while you were there?"

  "He got rid of me as he did of you, before he spoke to Nikolay."

  The man stood still, and again suddenly bowed down, touching the groundwith his finger.

  "Forgive me for my evil thoughts, and my slander."

  "May God forgive you," answered Raskolnikov.

  And as he said this, the man bowed down again, but not to the ground,turned slowly and went out of the room.

  "It all cuts both ways, now it all cuts both ways," repeatedRaskolnikov, and he went out more confident than ever.

  "Now we'll make a fight for it," he said, with a malicious smile, as hewent down the stairs. His malice was aimed at himself; with shame andcontempt he recollected his "cowardice."

  PART V