From: Crime and Punishment
II
It was already almost eight o'clock; both hurried to Bakaleyev's to arrive before Luzhin.
"Well, who was that?" asked Razumikhin as soon as they came out onto the street.
"That was Svidrigailov, the very same landowner in whose house my sister was insulted when she worked there as a governess. Through his amorous pursuits she left them, driven out by his wife, Marfa Petrovna. This Marfa Petrovna begged Dunya's forgiveness afterwards, and now she has suddenly died. It was about her they were talking just now. I don't know why, but I'm very afraid of this man. He arrived immediately after his wife's funeral. He's very strange and has resolved upon something... He seems to know something... Dunya must be protected from him... that's what I wanted to tell you, do you hear?"
"Protected! But what can he do against Avdotya Romanovna? Well, thank you, Rodya, for telling me this... We will, we will protect her!... Where does he live?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't you ask? Eh, what a pity! However, I'll find out!"
"Did you see him?" asked Raskolnikov after some silence.
"Well yes, I noticed him; I noticed him clearly."
"You really saw him? You saw him clearly?" Raskolnikov insisted.
"Well yes, I remember clearly; I'd recognize him out of a thousand, I have a good memory for faces."
Again they fell silent.
"Hm... that's just it..." muttered Raskolnikov. "Otherwise, you know... I thought... it keeps seeming to me... that it might be a fantasy."
"What are you talking about? I don't quite understand you."
"You all keep saying," continued Raskolnikov, twisting his mouth into a smile, "that I'm mad; and just now it seemed to me that perhaps I really am mad and only saw a phantom!"
"What are you saying?"
"But who knows! Perhaps I really am mad, and everything that's happened these past days, perhaps it's all just in my imagination..."
"Eh, Rodya! They've upset you again!... But what did he say, what did he come for?"
Raskolnikov didn't answer. Razumikhin thought for a minute.
"Well, listen to my report," he began. "I stopped by your place, you were asleep. Then we had dinner, and then I went to Porfiry. Zametov's still there. I tried to begin, but nothing came of it. I just couldn't start talking properly. They seem not to understand and can't understand, but they're not at all embarrassed. I led Porfiry to the window and started talking, but again somehow it didn't come out right: he looks to the side, and I look to the side. Finally, I brought my fist up to his face and said I'd smash it, in a cousinly way. He only looked at me. I spat and left, and that's all. Very stupid. I didn't say a word to Zametov. But you see: I thought I'd bungled it, but as I was going down the stairs, a thought came to me, it just struck me: why are we fussing about this? If you were in danger, or there was something, well of course. But what's it to you? You have nothing to do with it, so to hell with them; we'll have a good laugh at them later, and if I were in your place I'd mystify them even more. How ashamed they'll be afterwards! Spit on it; we can beat them up later, but for now let's laugh!"
"Of course, that's right!" answered Raskolnikov. "But what will you say tomorrow?" he thought to himself. Strange to say, until now it had never once occurred to him: "What will Razumikhin think when he finds out?" Thinking this, Raskolnikov looked at him intently. He was very little interested now in Razumikhin's account of his visit to Porfiry: so much had ebbed away since then and been added!..
In the corridor they ran into Luzhin: he appeared at exactly eight o'clock and was looking for the room number, so that all three entered together, but without looking at each other or bowing. The young men went ahead, while Pyotr Petrovich, for propriety's sake, lingered a bit in the entryway, removing his coat. Pulkheria Aleksandrovna immediately came out to meet him at the threshold. Dunya was greeting her brother.
Pyotr Petrovich entered and bowed to the ladies rather amiably, though with redoubled solemnity. However, he looked as if somewhat thrown off and hadn't yet found his bearings. Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, also seeming confused, hastened to seat everyone around the round table where the samovar was boiling. Dunya and Luzhin took places opposite each other at both ends of the table. Razumikhin and Raskolnikov ended up opposite Pulkheria Aleksandrovna—Razumikhin closer to Luzhin, and Raskolnikov beside his sister.
A momentary silence fell. Pyotr Petrovich unhurriedly took out a batiste handkerchief that smelled of perfume and blew his nose with the air of a virtuous man who had nonetheless been somewhat offended in his dignity, and who was moreover firmly resolved to demand an explanation. While still in the entryway he'd had the thought: not to take off his coat and leave, thereby sternly and impressively punishing both ladies, so that they would immediately feel everything. But he didn't decide to do it. Besides, this man didn't like uncertainty, and here things needed to be clarified: if his order had been so openly violated, it meant there was something, and consequently, it was better to find out beforehand; there would always be time to punish, and it was in his power.
"I hope the journey passed successfully?" he formally addressed Pulkheria Aleksandrovna.
"Thank God, Pyotr Petrovich."
"Very pleased, sir. And Avdotya Romanovna is also not tired?"
"I'm young and strong, I don't get tired, but it was very hard on mama," answered Dunechka.
"What can one do, sir; our national roads are very long. The so-called 'Mother Russia' is vast... I, despite all my desire, couldn't possibly rush to meet you yesterday. I hope, however, that everything proceeded without particular troubles?"
"Oh no, Pyotr Petrovich, we were very discouraged," Pulkheria Aleksandrovna hastened to declare with a special intonation, "and if God himself hadn't sent us Dmitry Prokofich yesterday, we would have simply perished. Here he is, Dmitry Prokofich Razumikhin," she added, introducing him to Luzhin.
"Yes indeed, I had the pleasure... yesterday," Luzhin muttered, glancing hostilely at Razumikhin, then frowned and fell silent. And in general Pyotr Petrovich belonged to the class of people who are apparently extremely amiable in society and especially pretend to amiability, but who, as soon as something doesn't go their way, immediately lose all their resources and become more like sacks of flour than gallant and animated gentlemen. Everyone fell silent again: Raskolnikov stubbornly remained silent, Avdotya Romanovna didn't want to interrupt the silence prematurely, Razumikhin had nothing to say, so that Pulkheria Aleksandrovna began to worry again.
"Marfa Petrovna died, did you hear?" she began, resorting to her capital resource.
"Indeed, I heard, sir. I was informed at the first rumor, and I've even come now to inform you that Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov, immediately after his spouse's funeral, departed hastily for Petersburg. So, at least, according to the most precise information I received."
"To Petersburg? Here?" Dunechka asked anxiously and exchanged glances with her mother.
"Exactly so, sir, and naturally, not without purposes, considering the haste of his departure and, in general, the preceding circumstances."
"Good Lord! Will he really not leave Dunechka in peace even here?" cried Pulkheria Aleksandrovna.
"It seems to me there's no particular need to worry, neither for you nor for Avdotya Romanovna, unless of course you yourselves wish to enter into any sort of relations with him. As for me, I'm keeping watch, and am now searching for where he has stopped..."
"Oh, Pyotr Petrovich, you can't believe how much you've frightened me now!" Pulkheria Aleksandrovna continued. "I've only seen him twice, and he seemed terrible to me, terrible! I'm certain he was the cause of the late Marfa Petrovna's death."
"As to that, one cannot conclude. I have precise information. I won't dispute, perhaps he contributed to the accelerated course of events, so to speak, by the moral influence of the offense; but as regards the behavior and, in general, the moral characteristics of that person, I agree with you. I don't know whether he's rich now and what exactly Marfa Petrovna left him; I'll be informed of this in the very shortest time; but naturally, here, in Petersburg, having at least some monetary means, he'll immediately take up his old ways. He's the most depraved and vice-ridden man of all such people! I have significant grounds for supposing that Marfa Petrovna, who had the misfortune to love him so much and to redeem him from his debts eight years ago, served him in yet another respect: solely through her efforts and sacrifices was hushed up, at the very beginning, a criminal case involving a brutal and, so to speak, fantastic murder, for which he very well might have taken a trip to Siberia. That's the kind of man he is, if you want to know."
"Oh, good Lord!" cried Pulkheria Aleksandrovna. Raskolnikov listened attentively.
"Are you telling the truth, that you have precise information about this?" Dunya asked sternly and impressively.
"I'm only saying what I myself heard, in secret, from the late Marfa Petrovna. It must be noted that from a legal standpoint this case is very obscure. There lived here, and I believe still lives, a certain Resslich, a foreigner and moreover a petty moneylender, engaged in other affairs as well. Mr. Svidrigailov had long been in certain very close and mysterious relations with this Resslich. She had living with her a distant relative, a niece I believe, a deaf-mute girl of about fifteen or even fourteen, whom this Resslich hated boundlessly and reproached for every crust of bread; she even beat her inhumanly. One day she was found in the attic, hanged. It was ruled suicide. After the usual procedures the matter ended there, but subsequently a denunciation appeared, however, that the child had been... cruelly violated by Svidrigailov. True, it was all obscure, the denunciation came from another German woman, a notorious woman who had no credibility; finally, in essence, there was no denunciation at all, thanks to Marfa Petrovna's efforts and money; it all came down to rumors. But nonetheless, this rumor was very significant. You, of course, Avdotya Romanovna, also heard about the story of the man Philip, who died from tortures six years ago, still in the time of serfdom."
"I heard, on the contrary, that this Philip hanged himself."
"Exactly so, sir, but he was driven or, better to say, inclined to violent death by the continuous system of persecution and exactions by Mr. Svidrigailov."
"I don't know about that," Dunya answered dryly, "I only heard some very strange story, that this Philip was some sort of hypochondriac, some kind of domestic philosopher, people said he 'read himself to death,' and that he hanged himself more from mockery than from beatings by Mr. Svidrigailov. And he treated his people well when I was there, and the people even loved him, though they indeed also blamed him for Philip's death."
"I see that you, Avdotya Romanovna, have somehow suddenly become inclined to justify him," Luzhin remarked, twisting his mouth into an ambiguous smile. "Indeed, he's a cunning man and seductive with regard to ladies, of which the lamentable example is Marfa Petrovna, who died so strangely. I only wanted to serve you and your mama with my advice, in view of his new and undoubtedly forthcoming attempts. As for me, I'm firmly convinced that this man will undoubtedly disappear again into debtor's prison. Marfa Petrovna never had any intention of settling anything on him, keeping in mind the children, and if she left him anything, it was surely something most necessary, insignificant, ephemeral, not enough to last a year for a man with his habits."
"Pyotr Petrovich, please," said Dunya, "let's stop talking about Mr. Svidrigailov. It depresses me."
"He came to see me just now," Raskolnikov suddenly said, breaking his silence for the first time.
Exclamations came from all sides, everyone turned to him. Even Pyotr Petrovich was agitated.
"About an hour and a half ago, when I was sleeping, he came in, woke me up and introduced himself," Raskolnikov continued. "He was quite relaxed and cheerful and fully hopes that I'll become friends with him. Among other things, he very much requests and seeks a meeting with you, Dunya, and asked me to be an intermediary for this meeting. He has a proposal for you; he told me what it is. Besides, he positively informed me that Marfa Petrovna, a week before her death, managed to leave you, Dunya, three thousand rubles in her will, and you can receive this money very soon."
"Thank God!" cried Pulkheria Aleksandrovna and crossed herself. "Pray for her, Dunya, pray!"
"It's actually true," escaped from Luzhin.
"Well, well, what next?" Dunechka urged.
"Then he said that he himself is not rich and the entire estate goes to his children, who are now at their aunt's. Then, that he's staying somewhere not far from me, but where? I don't know, I didn't ask..."
"But what, what does he want to propose to Dunechka?" asked the frightened Pulkheria Aleksandrovna. "Did he tell you?"
"Yes, he told me."
"What is it?"
"I'll tell you later." Raskolnikov fell silent and turned to his tea.
Pyotr Petrovich took out his watch and looked at it.
"I must leave on business, and thus won't be in the way," he added with a somewhat piqued air and began to rise from his chair.
"Stay, Pyotr Petrovich," said Dunya, "you intended to spend the evening. Besides, you yourself wrote that you wished to explain something with mama."
"Exactly so, sir, Avdotya Romanovna," Pyotr Petrovich pronounced impressively, sitting down again but still holding his hat, "I indeed wish to explain myself both to you and to your most respected mama, and even about very important points. But as your brother cannot explain himself in my presence about certain proposals of Mr. Svidrigailov, so I don't wish and cannot explain myself... in the presence of others... about certain, very, very important points. Besides, my capital and most earnest request was not fulfilled..."
Luzhin put on a bitter face and pompously fell silent.
"Your request that my brother not be present at our meeting was not fulfilled solely at my insistence," said Dunya. "You wrote that you were insulted by my brother; I think this must be cleared up immediately, and you must be reconciled. And if Rodya really insulted you, then he must and will ask your forgiveness."
Pyotr Petrovich immediately took courage.
"There are certain insults, Avdotya Romanovna, which, with all the good will, cannot be forgotten, sir. In everything there's a line beyond which it's dangerous to cross; for, once you step over it, it's impossible to turn back."
"That's not exactly what I was talking about, Pyotr Petrovich," Dunya interrupted somewhat impatiently, "understand well that our entire future now depends on whether all this is clarified and settled as soon as possible or not. I'll say plainly, from the first word, that I cannot look at it otherwise, and if you value me at all, then, even though it's difficult, this whole affair must end today. I repeat, if my brother is guilty, he will ask forgiveness."
"I'm amazed that you pose the question so, Avdotya Romanovna," Luzhin grew more and more irritated. "Valuing and, so to speak, adoring you, I at the same time may very, very well not love someone among your family. Aspiring to the happiness of your hand, I cannot at the same time take upon myself obligations that are incompatible..."
"Ah, leave off all this touchiness, Pyotr Petrovich," Dunya interrupted with feeling, "and be that intelligent and noble man I've always considered you and wish to consider you. I've given you a great promise, I'm your fiancée; trust me in this matter, and believe that I'll be able to judge impartially. The fact that I'm taking on the role of judge is as much a surprise to my brother as to you. When I invited him today, after your letter, to definitely come to our meeting, I told him nothing of my intentions. Understand, if you don't reconcile, then I must choose between you: either you or him. That's how the question stands, from both his side and yours. I don't want and mustn't make the wrong choice. For you I must break with my brother; for my brother I must break with you. I want and can find out for certain now: is he a brother to me? And about you: am I dear to you, do you value me: are you a husband to me?"
"Avdotya Romanovna," Luzhin pronounced with affectation, "your words are too significant for me, I'll say more, even offensive, in view of the position I have the honor to occupy in relation to you. To say nothing of the offensive and strange juxtaposition, on the same level, between me and... that presumptuous youth, by your words you admit the possibility of breaking the promise given to me. You say: 'either you or him'—meaning, you thereby show me how little I mean to you... I cannot allow this, given the relations and... obligations existing between us."
"What!" Dunya flared up, "I place your interest alongside everything that has been precious to me in life until now, everything that has constituted my whole life until now, and suddenly you're offended that I give you little value!"
Raskolnikov smiled silently and sarcastically, Razumikhin shuddered all over; but Pyotr Petrovich didn't accept the objection; on the contrary, with each word he became more captious and irritable, as if getting a taste for it.
"Love for one's future life companion, for one's husband, must exceed love for one's brother," he pronounced sententiously, "and in any case, I cannot stand on the same level... Though I insisted earlier that in your brother's presence I don't wish and cannot explain everything I came with, nonetheless I now intend to address your most respected mama for a necessary explanation on one very capital and offensive point for me. Your son," he addressed Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, "yesterday, in the presence of Mr. Rassudk—(or... I believe so? Excuse me, I've forgotten your surname," he bowed amiably to Razumikhin), "insulted me by distorting an idea of mine, which I communicated to you then in private conversation, over coffee, namely, that marriage to a poor girl who has already experienced life's grief is, in my opinion, more advantageous in the conjugal respect than to one who has experienced comfort, because it's more useful for morality. Your son deliberately exaggerated the meaning of my words to absurdity, accusing me of malicious intentions and, in my view, basing this on your own correspondence. I will consider myself happy if it's possible for you, Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, to dissuade me to the contrary and thereby significantly reassure me. Tell me, in what exact terms did you convey my words in your letter to Rodion Romanovich?"
"I don't remember," Pulkheria Aleksandrovna faltered, "I conveyed them as I myself understood them. I don't know how Rodya conveyed them to you... Perhaps he exaggerated something."
"He couldn't have exaggerated without your prompting."
"Pyotr Petrovich," Pulkheria Aleksandrovna pronounced with dignity, "the proof that Dunya and I didn't take your words in a very bad way is that we're here."
"Good, mama!" Dunya said approvingly.
"So I'm guilty in this too!" Luzhin took offense.
"Well, Pyotr Petrovich, you keep blaming Rodion, but you yourself wrote an untruth about him in your letter recently," Pulkheria Aleksandrovna added, emboldened.
"I don't remember having written any untruth, sir."
"You wrote," Raskolnikov said sharply, not turning to Luzhin, "that yesterday I gave money not to the widow of the crushed man, as it actually was, but to his daughter (whom I'd never seen until yesterday). You wrote this to quarrel me with my family, and for that you added, in vile expressions, about the behavior of a girl you don't know. It's all gossip and baseness."
"Excuse me, sir," Luzhin answered, trembling with spite, "in my letter I expatiated on your qualities and actions solely in fulfillment thereby of the request of your sister and mama to describe to them: how I found you and what impression you made on me. As for what was indicated in my letter, find even one line that's unjust—that is, that you didn't spend the money and that in that family, though unfortunate, there weren't unworthy persons?"
"In my opinion, you, with all your merits, aren't worth the little finger of that unfortunate girl at whom you're throwing stones."
"So you'd resolve to introduce her into the society of your mother and sister?"
"I've already done that, if you want to know. I seated her today next to mama and Dunya."
"Rodya!" cried Pulkheria Aleksandrovna.
Dunechka blushed; Razumikhin knit his brows. Luzhin smiled sarcastically and haughtily.
"You can see for yourself, Avdotya Romanovna," he said, "whether agreement is possible here? I hope now that this matter is finished and clarified, once and for all. I'll withdraw so as not to hinder the further pleasantness of the family meeting and the communication of secrets" (he rose from his chair and took his hat). "But, in leaving, I venture to remark that henceforth I hope to be spared such meetings and, so to speak, compromises. I'll especially ask you, most respected Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, on this same theme, all the more so since my letter was addressed to you and not to anyone else."
Pulkheria Aleksandrovna was somewhat offended.
"You're taking us completely into your power, Pyotr Petrovich. Dunya told you the reason why your wish wasn't fulfilled: she had good intentions. And you write to me as if you're ordering. Must we really consider every wish of yours an order? I'll tell you the opposite, that you should now be especially delicate and indulgent with us, because we abandoned everything and, trusting you, came here, and consequently we're already almost in your power anyway."
"That's not entirely fair, Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, and especially at the present moment, when the three thousand bequeathed by Marfa Petrovna has been announced, which, it seems, is very timely, judging by the new tone with which you've begun speaking to me," he added sarcastically.
"Judging by that remark, one can indeed suppose that you were counting on our helplessness," Dunya observed irritably.
"But now, at least, I cannot count on it, and especially don't wish to hinder the communication of the secret proposals of Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov, with which he has commissioned your brother and which, as I see, have capital and perhaps very pleasant significance for you."
"Oh, good heavens!" cried Pulkheria Aleksandrovna.
Razumikhin couldn't sit still on his chair.
"And aren't you ashamed now, sister?" asked Raskolnikov.
"I am ashamed, Rodya," said Dunya. "Pyotr Petrovich, get out!" she addressed him, pale with anger.
Pyotr Petrovich apparently hadn't expected such an ending at all. He'd relied too much on himself, on his power, and on the helplessness of his victims. He didn't believe it even now. He paled, and his lips trembled.
"Avdotya Romanovna, if I go out that door now, with such a send-off, then—count on this—I'll never come back. Think it over well! My word is firm."
"What insolence!" cried Dunya, quickly rising from her place. "I don't even want you to come back!"
"What? So that's ho-o-ow it is, sir!" cried Luzhin, not believing, until the last moment, in such an outcome, and therefore completely losing the thread now, "so tha-a-at's how it is, sir! But do you know, Avdotya Romanovna, that I could even protest, sir."
"What right do you have to speak to her like that!" Pulkheria Aleksandrovna stepped in hotly. "What can you protest about? And what are these rights of yours? Would I really give you, the likes of you, my Dunya? Go away, leave us entirely! We're guilty ourselves for embarking on an unjust affair, and I most of all..."
"However, Pulkheria Aleksandrovna," Luzhin raged furiously, "you bound me by your given word, from which you're now renouncing... and finally... finally, I was, so to speak, drawn through that into expenses..."
This last claim was so much in character with Pyotr Petrovich that Raskolnikov, pale with anger and with the effort of restraining it, suddenly couldn't hold back and—burst out laughing. But Pulkheria Aleksandrovna lost her temper:
"Expenses? What expenses? Are you talking about our trunk? But the conductor took it for you for free. Good Lord, we bound you! You come to your senses, Pyotr Petrovich, it was you who bound us hand and foot, not we you!"
"Enough, mama, please, enough!" Avdotya Romanovna begged. "Pyotr Petrovich, do us the kindness of leaving!"
"I'll leave, sir, but one last word only!" he said, now almost completely not in control of himself. "Your mama, it seems, has completely forgotten that I decided to take you, so to speak, after the town gossip that spread throughout the neighborhood about your reputation. Disregarding for you public opinion and restoring your reputation, I certainly, very, very much, could have hoped for recompense and even demanded your gratitude... And only now have my eyes been opened! I see myself that perhaps, very, very much, I acted rashly in disregarding public voice..."
"Does he have two heads or something!" shouted Razumikhin, jumping up from his chair and already preparing to deal with him.
"You're a base and spiteful man!" said Dunya.
"Not a word! Not a gesture!" cried Raskolnikov, holding back Razumikhin; then, approaching almost point-blank to Luzhin:
"Be so good as to get out!" he said quietly and distinctly, "and not another word, otherwise..."
Pyotr Petrovich looked at him for several seconds with a face pale and twisted with spite, then turned and went out, and surely, rarely has anyone carried away in his heart so much malicious hatred for anyone as this man bore for Raskolnikov. Him, and him alone, he blamed for everything. Remarkably, even going down the stairs, he still imagined that the affair might not be entirely lost yet and, as far as the ladies alone were concerned, was even "very, very much" repairable.