Prestuplenie i nakazanie. English

by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

  CHAPTER I

  A strange period began for Raskolnikov: it was as though a fog hadfallen upon him and wrapped him in a dreary solitude from which therewas no escape. Recalling that period long after, he believed that hismind had been clouded at times, and that it had continued so, withintervals, till the final catastrophe. He was convinced that he had beenmistaken about many things at that time, for instance as to the dateof certain events. Anyway, when he tried later on to piece hisrecollections together, he learnt a great deal about himself from whatother people told him. He had mixed up incidents and had explainedevents as due to circumstances which existed only in his imagination. Attimes he was a prey to agonies of morbid uneasiness, amounting sometimesto panic. But he remembered, too, moments, hours, perhaps whole days,of complete apathy, which came upon him as a reaction from his previousterror and might be compared with the abnormal insensibility, sometimesseen in the dying. He seemed to be trying in that latter stage to escapefrom a full and clear understanding of his position. Certain essentialfacts which required immediate consideration were particularly irksometo him. How glad he would have been to be free from some cares, theneglect of which would have threatened him with complete, inevitableruin.

  He was particularly worried about Svidrigailov, he might be said to bepermanently thinking of Svidrigailov. From the time of Svidrigailov'stoo menacing and unmistakable words in Sonia's room at the moment ofKaterina Ivanovna's death, the normal working of his mind seemed tobreak down. But although this new fact caused him extreme uneasiness,Raskolnikov was in no hurry for an explanation of it. At times, findinghimself in a solitary and remote part of the town, in some wretchedeating-house, sitting alone lost in thought, hardly knowing how he hadcome there, he suddenly thought of Svidrigailov. He recognisedsuddenly, clearly, and with dismay that he ought at once to come to anunderstanding with that man and to make what terms he could. Walkingoutside the city gates one day, he positively fancied that they hadfixed a meeting there, that he was waiting for Svidrigailov. Anothertime he woke up before daybreak lying on the ground under some bushesand could not at first understand how he had come there.

  But during the two or three days after Katerina Ivanovna's death, hehad two or three times met Svidrigailov at Sonia's lodging, where hehad gone aimlessly for a moment. They exchanged a few words and made noreference to the vital subject, as though they were tacitly agreed notto speak of it for a time.

  Katerina Ivanovna's body was still lying in the coffin, Svidrigailov wasbusy making arrangements for the funeral. Sonia too was very busy. Attheir last meeting Svidrigailov informed Raskolnikov that he had madean arrangement, and a very satisfactory one, for Katerina Ivanovna'schildren; that he had, through certain connections, succeeded in gettinghold of certain personages by whose help the three orphans could be atonce placed in very suitable institutions; that the money he had settledon them had been of great assistance, as it is much easier to placeorphans with some property than destitute ones. He said somethingtoo about Sonia and promised to come himself in a day or two to seeRaskolnikov, mentioning that "he would like to consult with him, thatthere were things they must talk over...."

  This conversation took place in the passage on the stairs. Svidrigailovlooked intently at Raskolnikov and suddenly, after a brief pause,dropping his voice, asked: "But how is it, Rodion Romanovitch; youdon't seem yourself? You look and you listen, but you don't seem tounderstand. Cheer up! We'll talk things over; I am only sorry, I'veso much to do of my own business and other people's. Ah, RodionRomanovitch," he added suddenly, "what all men need is fresh air, freshair... more than anything!"

  He moved to one side to make way for the priest and server, whowere coming up the stairs. They had come for the requiem service. BySvidrigailov's orders it was sung twice a day punctually. Svidrigailovwent his way. Raskolnikov stood still a moment, thought, and followedthe priest into Sonia's room. He stood at the door. They began quietly,slowly and mournfully singing the service. From his childhood thethought of death and the presence of death had something oppressiveand mysteriously awful; and it was long since he had heard the requiemservice. And there was something else here as well, too awful anddisturbing. He looked at the children: they were all kneeling by thecoffin; Polenka was weeping. Behind them Sonia prayed, softly and, as itwere, timidly weeping.

  "These last two days she hasn't said a word to me, she hasn't glanced atme," Raskolnikov thought suddenly. The sunlight was bright in the room;the incense rose in clouds; the priest read, "Give rest, oh Lord...."Raskolnikov stayed all through the service. As he blessed them andtook his leave, the priest looked round strangely. After the service,Raskolnikov went up to Sonia. She took both his hands and let herhead sink on his shoulder. This slight friendly gesture bewilderedRaskolnikov. It seemed strange to him that there was no trace ofrepugnance, no trace of disgust, no tremor in her hand. It was thefurthest limit of self-abnegation, at least so he interpreted it.

  Sonia said nothing. Raskolnikov pressed her hand and went out. He feltvery miserable. If it had been possible to escape to some solitude, hewould have thought himself lucky, even if he had to spend his whole lifethere. But although he had almost always been by himself of late, he hadnever been able to feel alone. Sometimes he walked out of the town on tothe high road, once he had even reached a little wood, but the lonelierthe place was, the more he seemed to be aware of an uneasy presence nearhim. It did not frighten him, but greatly annoyed him, so that hemade haste to return to the town, to mingle with the crowd, to enterrestaurants and taverns, to walk in busy thoroughfares. There he felteasier and even more solitary. One day at dusk he sat for an hourlistening to songs in a tavern and he remembered that he positivelyenjoyed it. But at last he had suddenly felt the same uneasiness again,as though his conscience smote him. "Here I sit listening to singing,is that what I ought to be doing?" he thought. Yet he felt at oncethat that was not the only cause of his uneasiness; there was somethingrequiring immediate decision, but it was something he could not clearlyunderstand or put into words. It was a hopeless tangle. "No, better thestruggle again! Better Porfiry again... or Svidrigailov.... Better somechallenge again... some attack. Yes, yes!" he thought. He went out ofthe tavern and rushed away almost at a run. The thought of Dounia andhis mother suddenly reduced him almost to a panic. That night he wokeup before morning among some bushes in Krestovsky Island, tremblingall over with fever; he walked home, and it was early morning when hearrived. After some hours' sleep the fever left him, but he woke uplate, two o'clock in the afternoon.

  He remembered that Katerina Ivanovna's funeral had been fixed for thatday, and was glad that he was not present at it. Nastasya brought himsome food; he ate and drank with appetite, almost with greediness. Hishead was fresher and he was calmer than he had been for the last threedays. He even felt a passing wonder at his previous attacks of panic.

  The door opened and Razumihin came in.

  "Ah, he's eating, then he's not ill," said Razumihin. He took a chairand sat down at the table opposite Raskolnikov.

  He was troubled and did not attempt to conceal it. He spoke with evidentannoyance, but without hurry or raising his voice. He looked as thoughhe had some special fixed determination.

  "Listen," he began resolutely. "As far as I am concerned, you may all goto hell, but from what I see, it's clear to me that I can't make head ortail of it; please don't think I've come to ask you questions. I don'twant to know, hang it! If you begin telling me your secrets, I dare sayI shouldn't stay to listen, I should go away cursing. I have only cometo find out once for all whether it's a fact that you are mad? There isa conviction in the air that you are mad or very nearly so. I admitI've been disposed to that opinion myself, judging from your stupid,repulsive and quite inexplicable actions, and from your recent behaviorto your mother and sister. Only a monster or a madman could treat themas you have; so you must be mad."

  "When did you see them last?"

  "Just now. Haven't you seen them since then? What have you been doingwith yourself?
Tell me, please. I've been to you three times already.Your mother has been seriously ill since yesterday. She had made upher mind to come to you; Avdotya Romanovna tried to prevent her; shewouldn't hear a word. 'If he is ill, if his mind is giving way, who canlook after him like his mother?' she said. We all came here together, wecouldn't let her come alone all the way. We kept begging her to be calm.We came in, you weren't here; she sat down, and stayed ten minutes,while we stood waiting in silence. She got up and said: 'If he'sgone out, that is, if he is well, and has forgotten his mother, it'shumiliating and unseemly for his mother to stand at his door begging forkindness.' She returned home and took to her bed; now she is in a fever.'I see,' she said, 'that he has time for _his girl_.' She means by _yourgirl_ Sofya Semyonovna, your betrothed or your mistress, I don't know. Iwent at once to Sofya Semyonovna's, for I wanted to know what was goingon. I looked round, I saw the coffin, the children crying, andSofya Semyonovna trying them on mourning dresses. No sign of you. Iapologised, came away, and reported to Avdotya Romanovna. So that's allnonsense and you haven't got a girl; the most likely thing is that youare mad. But here you sit, guzzling boiled beef as though you'd not hada bite for three days. Though as far as that goes, madmen eat too, butthough you have not said a word to me yet... you are not mad! That I'dswear! Above all, you are not mad! So you may go to hell, all of you,for there's some mystery, some secret about it, and I don't intend toworry my brains over your secrets. So I've simply come to swear at you,"he finished, getting up, "to relieve my mind. And I know what to donow."

  "What do you mean to do now?"

  "What business is it of yours what I mean to do?"

  "You are going in for a drinking bout."

  "How... how did you know?"

  "Why, it's pretty plain."

  Razumihin paused for a minute.

  "You always have been a very rational person and you've never been mad,never," he observed suddenly with warmth. "You're right: I shall drink.Good-bye!"

  And he moved to go out.

  "I was talking with my sister--the day before yesterday, I think itwas--about you, Razumihin."

  "About me! But... where can you have seen her the day before yesterday?"Razumihin stopped short and even turned a little pale.

  One could see that his heart was throbbing slowly and violently.

  "She came here by herself, sat there and talked to me."

  "She did!"

  "Yes."

  "What did you say to her... I mean, about me?"

  "I told her you were a very good, honest, and industrious man. I didn'ttell her you love her, because she knows that herself."

  "She knows that herself?"

  "Well, it's pretty plain. Wherever I might go, whatever happened to me,you would remain to look after them. I, so to speak, give them into yourkeeping, Razumihin. I say this because I know quite well how you loveher, and am convinced of the purity of your heart. I know that she toomay love you and perhaps does love you already. Now decide for yourself,as you know best, whether you need go in for a drinking bout or not."

  "Rodya! You see... well.... Ach, damn it! But where do you mean to go?Of course, if it's all a secret, never mind.... But I... I shall findout the secret... and I am sure that it must be some ridiculous nonsenseand that you've made it all up. Anyway you are a capital fellow, acapital fellow!..."

  "That was just what I wanted to add, only you interrupted, that that wasa very good decision of yours not to find out these secrets. Leave it totime, don't worry about it. You'll know it all in time when it must be.Yesterday a man said to me that what a man needs is fresh air, freshair, fresh air. I mean to go to him directly to find out what he meantby that."

  Razumihin stood lost in thought and excitement, making a silentconclusion.

  "He's a political conspirator! He must be. And he's on the eve of somedesperate step, that's certain. It can only be that! And... and Douniaknows," he thought suddenly.

  "So Avdotya Romanovna comes to see you," he said, weighing eachsyllable, "and you're going to see a man who says we need more air, andso of course that letter... that too must have something to do with it,"he concluded to himself.

  "What letter?"

  "She got a letter to-day. It upset her very much--very much indeed. Toomuch so. I began speaking of you, she begged me not to. Then... thenshe said that perhaps we should very soon have to part... then she beganwarmly thanking me for something; then she went to her room and lockedherself in."

  "She got a letter?" Raskolnikov asked thoughtfully.

  "Yes, and you didn't know? hm..."

  They were both silent.

  "Good-bye, Rodion. There was a time, brother, when I.... Never mind,good-bye. You see, there was a time.... Well, good-bye! I must be offtoo. I am not going to drink. There's no need now.... That's all stuff!"

  He hurried out; but when he had almost closed the door behind him, hesuddenly opened it again, and said, looking away:

  "Oh, by the way, do you remember that murder, you know Porfiry's, thatold woman? Do you know the murderer has been found, he has confessedand given the proofs. It's one of those very workmen, the painter, onlyfancy! Do you remember I defended them here? Would you believe it, allthat scene of fighting and laughing with his companions on the stairswhile the porter and the two witnesses were going up, he got up onpurpose to disarm suspicion. The cunning, the presence of mind of theyoung dog! One can hardly credit it; but it's his own explanation, hehas confessed it all. And what a fool I was about it! Well, he's simplya genius of hypocrisy and resourcefulness in disarming the suspicions ofthe lawyers--so there's nothing much to wonder at, I suppose! Of coursepeople like that are always possible. And the fact that he couldn't keepup the character, but confessed, makes him easier to believe in. Butwhat a fool I was! I was frantic on their side!"

  "Tell me, please, from whom did you hear that, and why does it interestyou so?" Raskolnikov asked with unmistakable agitation.

  "What next? You ask me why it interests me!... Well, I heard it fromPorfiry, among others... It was from him I heard almost all about it."

  "From Porfiry?"

  "From Porfiry."

  "What... what did he say?" Raskolnikov asked in dismay.

  "He gave me a capital explanation of it. Psychologically, after hisfashion."

  "He explained it? Explained it himself?"

  "Yes, yes; good-bye. I'll tell you all about it another time, but nowI'm busy. There was a time when I fancied... But no matter, anothertime!... What need is there for me to drink now? You have made me drunkwithout wine. I am drunk, Rodya! Good-bye, I'm going. I'll come againvery soon."

  He went out.

  "He's a political conspirator, there's not a doubt about it," Razumihindecided, as he slowly descended the stairs. "And he's drawn his sisterin; that's quite, quite in keeping with Avdotya Romanovna's character.There are interviews between them!... She hinted at it too... So many ofher words.... and hints... bear that meaning! And how else can all thistangle be explained? Hm! And I was almost thinking... Good heavens,what I thought! Yes, I took leave of my senses and I wronged him! It washis doing, under the lamp in the corridor that day. Pfoo! What a crude,nasty, vile idea on my part! Nikolay is a brick, for confessing.... Andhow clear it all is now! His illness then, all his strange actions...before this, in the university, how morose he used to be, how gloomy....But what's the meaning now of that letter? There's something in that,too, perhaps. Whom was it from? I suspect...! No, I must find out!"

  He thought of Dounia, realising all he had heard and his heart throbbed,and he suddenly broke into a run.

  As soon as Razumihin went out, Raskolnikov got up, turned to the window,walked into one corner and then into another, as though forgetting thesmallness of his room, and sat down again on the sofa. He felt, so tospeak, renewed; again the struggle, so a means of escape had come.

  "Yes, a means of escape had come! It had been too stifling, toocramping, the burden had been too agonising. A lethargy had come uponhim at times. From the moment of
the scene with Nikolay at Porfiry's hehad been suffocating, penned in without hope of escape. After Nikolay'sconfession, on that very day had come the scene with Sonia; hisbehaviour and his last words had been utterly unlike anything hecould have imagined beforehand; he had grown feebler, instantly andfundamentally! And he had agreed at the time with Sonia, he had agreedin his heart he could not go on living alone with such a thing on hismind!

  "And Svidrigailov was a riddle... He worried him, that was true, butsomehow not on the same point. He might still have a struggle to comewith Svidrigailov. Svidrigailov, too, might be a means of escape; butPorfiry was a different matter.

  "And so Porfiry himself had explained it to Razumihin, had explained it_psychologically_. He had begun bringing in his damned psychology again!Porfiry? But to think that Porfiry should for one moment believe thatNikolay was guilty, after what had passed between them before Nikolay'sappearance, after that tete-a-tete interview, which could have only_one_ explanation? (During those days Raskolnikov had often recalledpassages in that scene with Porfiry; he could not bear to let his mindrest on it.) Such words, such gestures had passed between them, theyhad exchanged such glances, things had been said in such a tone and hadreached such a pass, that Nikolay, whom Porfiry had seen through at thefirst word, at the first gesture, could not have shaken his conviction.

  "And to think that even Razumihin had begun to suspect! The scene in thecorridor under the lamp had produced its effect then. He had rushed toPorfiry.... But what had induced the latter to receive him like that?What had been his object in putting Razumihin off with Nikolay? He musthave some plan; there was some design, but what was it? It was true thata long time had passed since that morning--too long a time--and no sightnor sound of Porfiry. Well, that was a bad sign...."

  Raskolnikov took his cap and went out of the room, still pondering. Itwas the first time for a long while that he had felt clear in his mind,at least. "I must settle Svidrigailov," he thought, "and as soon aspossible; he, too, seems to be waiting for me to come to him of my ownaccord." And at that moment there was such a rush of hate in hisweary heart that he might have killed either of those two--Porfiry orSvidrigailov. At least he felt that he would be capable of doing itlater, if not now.

  "We shall see, we shall see," he repeated to himself.

  But no sooner had he opened the door than he stumbled upon Porfiryhimself in the passage. He was coming in to see him. Raskolnikov wasdumbfounded for a minute, but only for one minute. Strange to say, hewas not very much astonished at seeing Porfiry and scarcely afraid ofhim. He was simply startled, but was quickly, instantly, on his guard."Perhaps this will mean the end? But how could Porfiry have approachedso quietly, like a cat, so that he had heard nothing? Could he have beenlistening at the door?"

  "You didn't expect a visitor, Rodion Romanovitch," Porfiry explained,laughing. "I've been meaning to look in a long time; I was passing byand thought why not go in for five minutes. Are you going out? I won'tkeep you long. Just let me have one cigarette."

  "Sit down, Porfiry Petrovitch, sit down." Raskolnikov gave his visitora seat with so pleased and friendly an expression that he would havemarvelled at himself, if he could have seen it.

  The last moment had come, the last drops had to be drained! So a manwill sometimes go through half an hour of mortal terror with a brigand,yet when the knife is at his throat at last, he feels no fear.

  Raskolnikov seated himself directly facing Porfiry, and looked at himwithout flinching. Porfiry screwed up his eyes and began lighting acigarette.

  "Speak, speak," seemed as though it would burst from Raskolnikov'sheart. "Come, why don't you speak?"