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II

It would be difficult to pinpoint precisely the reasons why the idea of these senseless funeral repast arose in Katerina Ivanovna's disordered mind. Indeed, nearly ten of the twenty-odd rubles received from Raskolnikov specifically for Marmeladov's funeral had been squandered on it. Perhaps Katerina Ivanovna considered herself obligated to honor the deceased's memory "as is proper," so that all the tenants and Amalia Ivanovna in particular would know that he was "not at all inferior to them, and perhaps even much better, sir," and that none of them had any right to "turn up their noses" at him. Perhaps the greatest influence here was that particular pride of the poor, by virtue of which, during certain social ceremonies obligatory in our way of life for each and everyone, many poor people strain to their utmost and spend their last saved kopecks, just so as not to be "worse than others" and so that those others somehow "won't condemn" them. It is also quite probable that Katerina Ivanovna wanted, precisely on this occasion, precisely at that moment when she seemed abandoned by the whole world, to show all these "insignificant and nasty tenants" that she not only "knows how to live and how to receive," but that she was brought up for quite a different lot altogether, brought up in "a noble, one might even say aristocratic colonel's house," and certainly not prepared to sweep floors herself and wash children's rags at night. These paroxysms of pride and vanity sometimes visit even the poorest and most downtrodden people and, at times, turn into an irritable, irresistible need in them. And Katerina Ivanovna, moreover, was not one of the downtrodden: she could be utterly destroyed by circumstances, but to crush her morally, that is, to intimidate and subjugate her will, was impossible. Furthermore, Sonechka had said quite reasonably about her that her mind was becoming confused. This could not yet be said positively and definitively, it's true, but indeed in recent times, throughout the past year, her poor head had been too tormented not to have been damaged at least partially. The advanced development of consumption, as doctors say, also contributes to the derangement of mental faculties.

There was no abundance of wines in multiple varieties and sorts, nor was there any Madeira: this had been an exaggeration, but there was wine. There was vodka, rum, and Lisbon wine, all of the worst quality, but all in sufficient quantity. Besides the kutya, there were three or four dishes (including pancakes), all from Amalia Ivanovna's kitchen, and in addition two samovars were set out at once for the tea and punch to be served after dinner. Katerina Ivanovna herself had managed the purchases, with the help of one tenant, some pathetic little Pole, God knows why lodging with Mrs. Lippevechsel, who had immediately attached himself to Katerina Ivanovna's errands and had been running about all yesterday and all this morning at breakneck speed with his tongue hanging out, apparently making special efforts to ensure this last circumstance would be noticed. He kept running to Katerina Ivanovna herself over every trifle, even went searching for her at Gostiny Dvor, incessantly called her "pani khorunzhina," and finally annoyed her like a radish, though at first she had said that without this "obliging and magnanimous" man she would be utterly lost. It was in Katerina Ivanovna's character to quickly dress up the first person who crossed her path in the brightest and best colors, to praise them so that sometimes the person felt ashamed, to invent various circumstances in their praise which didn't exist at all, to believe quite sincerely and wholeheartedly in their reality herself, and then suddenly, all at once, to become disillusioned, break off, spit upon and drive away with kicks the very person she had, just a few hours before, been literally worshipping. By nature she was of a cheerful, merry, and peaceable character, but from continuous misfortunes and failures she had come to desire and demand so fiercely that everyone live in peace and joy and not dare to live otherwise, that the slightest dissonance in life, the smallest failure would immediately drive her almost into frenzy, and she would in an instant, after the brightest hopes and fantasies, begin to curse fate, tear and throw about everything that came to hand, and bang her head against the wall. Amalia Ivanovna had also suddenly acquired for some reason extraordinary importance and extraordinary respect from Katerina Ivanovna, perhaps solely because these funeral rites had been conceived and Amalia Ivanovna had decided with all her heart to participate in all the preparations: she had undertaken to set the table, provide linen, dishes, etc., and to prepare the food in her kitchen. She was given full authority and left in charge when Katerina Ivanovna departed for the cemetery. Indeed, everything was prepared splendidly: the table was set even quite cleanly, the dishes, forks, knives, glasses, tumblers, cups—all this, of course, was a miscellaneous collection, of different fashions and calibers, from different tenants, but everything was in its place at the appointed hour, and Amalia Ivanovna, feeling that she had performed her task excellently, met the returning party even with a certain pride, all dressed up in a cap with new mourning ribbons and a black dress. This pride, though deserved, for some reason displeased Katerina Ivanovna: "really, as if they wouldn't have managed to set the table without Amalia Ivanovna!" She didn't like the cap with new ribbons either: "surely this stupid German woman isn't proud, God forbid, that she's the landlady and agreed out of charity to help the poor tenants? Out of charity! I beg your pardon! At Katerina Ivanovna's papa's—who was a colonel and almost became governor—the table was sometimes set for forty persons, so that some Amalia Ivanovna, or better said Ludwigovna, wouldn't even have been let into the kitchen..." However, Katerina Ivanovna decided for the time being not to express her feelings, though she resolved in her heart that Amalia Ivanovna must certainly be put in her place this very day and reminded of her real station, otherwise God knows what she'll imagine about herself, but for now she treated her only coldly. Another unpleasantness also partly contributed to Katerina Ivanovna's irritation: at the funeral, of the tenants invited to the funeral, except for the Pole who had managed to stop by the cemetery as well, almost no one had come; to the funeral repast, that is, to the refreshments, there appeared only the most insignificant and poor among them, many of them not even in proper appearance, just some trash or other. Those who were older and more respectable had all, as if on purpose, as if by agreement, stayed away. Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin, for example, the most, one might say, respectable of all the tenants, had not appeared, and meanwhile just yesterday evening Katerina Ivanovna had already managed to tell everyone in the world, that is, Amalia Ivanovna, Polechka, Sonya, and the Pole, that he was the most noble, most magnanimous man, with the most enormous connections and fortune, a former friend of her first husband, received in her father's house, and who had promised to use all means to obtain for her a considerable pension. Let us note here that if Katerina Ivanovna boasted of anyone's connections and fortune, it was without any self-interest, without any personal calculation, quite disinterestedly, so to speak, from the fullness of her heart, from the mere pleasure of praising and attributing even more value to the person praised. Following Luzhin, and probably "taking his example," that "nasty scoundrel Lebezyatnikov" also failed to appear. "Who does he think he is? He was only invited out of courtesy, and even then only because he rooms with Pyotr Petrovich and is his acquaintance, so it would have been awkward not to invite him." There also failed to appear a certain refined lady with her "overripe virgin" daughter, who though they had been lodging only about two weeks in the rooms at Amalia Ivanovna's, had already complained several times about the noise and shouting coming from the Marmeladovs' room, especially when the deceased returned home drunk, about which, of course, Katerina Ivanovna had already learned through Amalia Ivanovna herself, when she, quarreling with Katerina Ivanovna and threatening to evict the whole family, had shouted at the top of her lungs that they were disturbing "the noble tenants, whose feet she was not worthy of." Katerina Ivanovna had now deliberately decided to invite this lady and her daughter, "whose feet she supposedly was not worthy of," all the more since until now, on chance meetings, the woman had haughtily turned away—so that she would know that here "they think and feel more nobly, and invite without holding grudges," and so they would see that Katerina Ivanovna was not accustomed to living in such circumstances. This was to be explained to them without fail at the table, as well as about the deceased papa's governorship, and at the same time to remark indirectly that there was no need to turn away at meetings and that this was extremely stupid. The fat sub-colonel (actually a retired staff captain) also didn't come, but it turned out he had been "dead drunk" since yesterday morning. In short, only the following appeared: the Pole, then a miserable little clerk without speeches, in a greasy frock coat, covered with pimples and with a repulsive smell; then another deaf and almost completely blind old man who had once served in some post office and whom someone, from time immemorial and for unknown reasons, had been supporting at Amalia Ivanovna's. There also appeared a drunken retired lieutenant, actually a provisions official, with a most indecent and loud guffaw and, "imagine," without a waistcoat! Some person sat down directly at the table without even bowing to Katerina Ivanovna, and finally one individual, for lack of proper attire, appeared in a dressing gown, but this was so indecorous that through the efforts of Amalia Ivanovna and the Pole they managed to get him out. The Pole, however, brought with him two other Poles who had never lived at Amalia Ivanovna's at all and whom no one had ever seen in the rooms before. All this extremely unpleasantly irritated Katerina Ivanovna. "For whom, then, were all these preparations made?" Even the children, to save space, were seated not at the table, which already occupied the whole room, but were set up in the back corner on a trunk, with the two little ones seated on a bench, while Polechka, as the eldest, had to look after them, feed them, and wipe their noses, "as befits noble children." In short, Katerina Ivanovna was forced to receive everyone with redoubled importance and even with haughtiness. She looked especially severely at some and invited them to sit at the table with condescension. Considering for some reason that Amalia Ivanovna must be held responsible for all those who had failed to appear, she suddenly began to treat her with extreme negligence, which the latter immediately noticed and was extremely piqued by. Such a beginning did not augur a good end. Finally everyone was seated.

Raskolnikov entered almost at the very moment they returned from the cemetery. Katerina Ivanovna was terribly glad to see him, first, because he was the only "educated guest" among all the guests and, "as is well known, in two years was preparing to take up a professor's chair at the local university," and second, because he immediately and respectfully apologized to her that despite all his desire, he had been unable to be at the funeral. She simply pounced on him, seated him at the table beside herself on the left (Amalia Ivanovna sat on the right) and, despite the continuous bustle and concerns about the proper serving of food and everyone getting their share, despite the tormenting cough that kept interrupting and choking her and seemed to have taken particular root these last two days, she continuously turned to Raskolnikov and in a half-whisper hastened to pour out to him all the feelings accumulated within her and all her righteous indignation at the failed funeral repast; moreover, the indignation was often replaced by the merriest, most unrestrained laughter at the assembled guests, but chiefly at the landlady herself.

"That cuckoo is to blame for everything. You understand whom I'm talking about: about her, about her!" and Katerina Ivanovna nodded toward the landlady. "Look at her: she's goggling her eyes, she feels we're talking about her but can't understand, so she's bulging her eyes. Ugh, an owl! ha-ha-ha!.. Khi-khi-khi! And what does she want to show with that cap! khi-khi-khi! Have you noticed, she wants everyone to think she's patronizing me and doing me an honor by being present. I asked her, as a decent person, to invite better people and specifically acquaintances of the deceased, and look whom she brought: clowns of some sort! ragamuffins! Look at that one with the dirty face: he's like some snot on two legs! And these little Poles... ha-ha-ha! Khi-khi-khi! No one, no one has ever seen them here, and I've never seen them; well, why did they come, I ask you? They're sitting primly in a row. Pane, hey!" she suddenly shouted to one of them, "have you taken pancakes? Take more! Drink beer, drink beer! Don't you want vodka? Look: he jumped up, he's bowing, look, look: he must be completely starving, poor thing! Never mind, let them eat. They're not making noise, at least, only... only, really, I'm afraid for the landlady's silver spoons!.. Amalia Ivanovna!" she suddenly addressed her, almost aloud, "if by chance they steal your spoons, I'm not responsible for them, I'm warning you in advance! Ha-ha-ha!" she burst out, turning again to Raskolnikov, nodding again toward the landlady and rejoicing in her sally. "She didn't understand, she didn't understand again! She's sitting with her mouth open, look: an owl, a real one, a screech owl in new ribbons, ha-ha-ha!"

Here the laughter again turned into unbearable coughing that lasted five minutes. Some blood remained on the handkerchief, beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead. She silently showed the blood to Raskolnikov and, having barely caught her breath, immediately began whispering to him again with extreme animation and with red spots on her cheeks:

"Look, I gave her the most delicate, one might say, commission to invite that lady and her daughter, you understand whom I'm talking about? It required conducting oneself in the most delicate manner, acting in the most skillful way, but she did it so that this visiting fool, this arrogant creature, this insignificant provincial woman, simply because she's some sort of major's widow and came to petition for a pension and wear out her hem in government offices, that she at fifty-five uses rouge, whitens and paints herself (this is well known)... and such a creature not only didn't deign to appear, but didn't even send an apology if she couldn't come, as the most ordinary politeness requires in such cases! I can't understand why Pyotr Petrovich hasn't come either? But where is Sonya? Where has she gone? Ah, there she is at last! What, Sonya, where have you been? It's strange that even at your father's funeral you're so unpunctual. Rodion Romanovich, let her sit beside you. There's your place, Sonechka... take whatever you want. Have some aspic, that's the best. They'll bring pancakes now. Have the children been given anything? Polechka, do you have everything there? Khi-khi-khi! Good. Be a clever girl, Lenya, and you, Kolya, don't swing your legs; sit as a noble child should sit. What are you saying, Sonechka?"

Sonya hastened immediately to convey to her Pyotr Petrovich's apologies, trying to speak aloud so everyone could hear, and using the most select respectful expressions, deliberately even concocted on behalf of Pyotr Petrovich and embellished by her. She added that Pyotr Petrovich had particularly asked her to convey that, as soon as it would be possible for him, he would come immediately to talk about business in private and to agree about what could be done and undertaken in the future, and so on, and so forth.

Sonya knew this would pacify and calm Katerina Ivanovna, would flatter her, and most importantly—her pride would be satisfied. She sat down beside Raskolnikov, to whom she bowed hastily, and glanced at him fleetingly and curiously. However, for all the rest of the time she somehow avoided both looking at him and speaking with him. She seemed even distracted, though she kept looking at Katerina Ivanovna's face to please her. Neither she nor Katerina Ivanovna were in mourning, for lack of dresses; Sonya wore something brownish, darker, and Katerina Ivanovna her only dress, a dark calico with stripes. The news about Pyotr Petrovich went down smoothly. Having listened importantly to Sonya, Katerina Ivanovna inquired with equal importance about Pyotr Petrovich's health. Then, immediately and almost aloud, she whispered to Raskolnikov that it really would be strange for a respected and solid man like Pyotr Petrovich to find himself in such "extraordinary company," despite all his devotion to her family and his old friendship with her papa.

"That's why I'm especially grateful to you, Rodion Romanovich, that you didn't disdain my bread and salt, even with such an arrangement," she added almost aloud, "however, I'm certain that only your particular friendship with my poor deceased induced you to keep your word."

Then she once again proudly and with dignity surveyed her guests and suddenly with particular solicitude inquired loudly across the table of the deaf old man: "Wouldn't he like more roast and had he been given Lisbon wine?" The old man didn't answer and couldn't understand for a long time what he was being asked, though his neighbors even began to jostle him for amusement. He only looked around with his mouth open, which only increased the general merriment.

"What a blockhead! Look, look! And what was he brought for? But as for Pyotr Petrovich, I've always been sure of him," Katerina Ivanovna continued to Raskolnikov, "and of course he's not like..." she addressed Amalia Ivanovna sharply and loudly with an extremely severe look, causing her to become frightened, "not like those dressed-up slatterns of yours, whom my papa wouldn't have taken into the kitchen as cooks, and my deceased husband would certainly have done them an honor by receiving them, and that only out of his inexhaustible kindness."

"Yes, sir, he liked to drink, sir; he did like it, sir, he drank, sir!" the retired provisions official suddenly shouted, draining his twelfth glass of vodka.

"My deceased husband did indeed have that weakness, and everyone knows it," Katerina Ivanovna immediately pounced on him, "but he was a kind and noble man who loved and respected his family; one bad thing, that out of his kindness he trusted all sorts of dissolute people too much, and God knows who he didn't drink with, with those who weren't even worthy of his shoe soles! Just imagine, Rodion Romanovich, they found a gingerbread rooster in his pocket: he's going along dead drunk, but he remembers the children."

"A roos-ter? Did you say a roos-ter?" shouted the provisions gentleman.

Katerina Ivanovna didn't deign to answer him. She thought about something and sighed.

"You probably think, like everyone, that I was too strict with him," she continued, addressing Raskolnikov. "But that's not so! He respected me, he respected me very, very much! He was a kind-hearted man! And I felt so sorry for him sometimes! He would sit, you know, looking at me from the corner, and I'd feel so sorry for him, I'd want to be affectionate with him, but then I'd think to myself: 'if you're affectionate, he'll get drunk again,' it was only through strictness that he could be restrained at all."

"Yes, sir, hair-pulling happened, sir, happened more than once, sir," the provisions official roared again and poured another glass of vodka into himself.

"Not only hair-pulling, but even a broom would have been useful to use with some fools. I'm not talking about the deceased now!" Katerina Ivanovna cut off the provisions official.

The red spots on her cheeks glowed more and more intensely, her chest heaved. Another moment and she would be ready to start a scene. Many were sniggering, many evidently found this pleasant. They began to nudge the provisions official and whisper something to him. Obviously they wanted to set them at each other.

"And may I ask, that is, on whose account... on whose noble account... you just now deigned... But however, never mind! Nonsense! A widow! A widow woman! I forgive... Pass!" and he gulped down more vodka.

Raskolnikov sat and listened silently and with disgust. He ate only perhaps out of politeness, barely touching the morsels that Katerina Ivanovna kept putting on his plate, and that only so as not to offend her. He stared intently at Sonya. But Sonya was becoming more and more anxious and worried; she too sensed that the funeral repast would not end peacefully, and fearfully watched Katerina Ivanovna's growing irritation. She knew, among other things, that the main reason the two visiting ladies had so contemptuously refused Katerina Ivanovna's invitation was herself, Sonya. She had heard from Amalia Ivanovna herself that the mother had even been offended by the invitation and had posed the question: "How could she seat her daughter next to that young woman?" Sonya sensed that Katerina Ivanovna had somehow already learned of this, and an insult to her, Sonya, meant more to Katerina Ivanovna than an insult to herself personally, to her children, to her papa, in short, was a mortal insult, and Sonya knew that Katerina Ivanovna would not rest now "until she proved to those slatterns that they both," etc., etc. As if on purpose, someone passed Sonya from the other end of the table a plate with two hearts fashioned from black bread and pierced with an arrow. Katerina Ivanovna flushed and immediately remarked loudly across the table that the one who had sent it was certainly "a drunken ass." Amalia Ivanovna, also sensing something bad, and at the same time offended to the depths of her soul by Katerina Ivanovna's haughtiness, in order to divert the unpleasant mood of the company in another direction and, incidentally, to raise herself in general opinion, suddenly began, out of nowhere, to tell how some acquaintance of hers, "Karl from the pharmacy," had ridden at night in a cab and that "the cabman wanted to kill him and that Karl begged him very, very much not to kill him, and cried, and clasped his hands, and was frightened, and from fear his heart was pierced." Though Katerina Ivanovna smiled, she immediately remarked that Amalia Ivanovna should not tell anecdotes in Russian. The latter was even more offended and retorted that her "vater aus Berlin was very, very important man and always walked with hands in pockets." The laughing Katerina Ivanovna couldn't restrain herself and laughed terribly, so that Amalia Ivanovna began to lose her last patience and could barely control herself.

"Just look at that screech owl!" Katerina Ivanovna immediately whispered again to Raskolnikov, almost cheered up, "she wanted to say he kept his hands in his pockets, but it came out that he went through pockets, khi-khi! And have you noticed, Rodion Romanovich, once and for all, that all these Petersburg foreigners, that is, mainly Germans who come to us from somewhere, are all stupider than us! Well, you must agree, how can one tell about how 'Karl from the pharmacy's heart was pierced by fear' and that he (the blockhead!), instead of tying up the cabman, 'clasped his hands, and cried, and begged very much.' Oh, what a fool! And she thinks it's very touching, and doesn't suspect how stupid she is! In my opinion, that drunken provisions official is much cleverer than she is; at least it's obvious he's a wastrel who drank away his last wits, but all these Germans are so prim, so serious... Look, she's sitting there with her eyes bulging. She's angry! She's angry! Ha-ha-ha! Khi-khi-khi!"

Cheered up, Katerina Ivanovna immediately became carried away with various details and suddenly began talking about how with the help of the pension to be obtained she would certainly establish in her native town of T— a boarding school for noble girls. This had not yet been communicated to Raskolnikov by Katerina Ivanovna herself, and she immediately became carried away with the most alluring details. Somehow there suddenly appeared in her hands that very "certificate of merit" about which the deceased Marmeladov had informed Raskolnikov in the tavern, explaining to him that Katerina Ivanovna, his wife, at her graduation from the institute, had danced with a shawl "before the governor and other personages." This certificate of merit obviously was now to serve as proof of Katerina Ivanovna's right to establish a boarding school herself; but mainly, it had been saved for the purpose of finally cutting down "those two dressed-up slatterns," in case they should come to the funeral repast, and to prove clearly to them that Katerina Ivanovna was from the most noble, "one might even say aristocratic house, a colonel's daughter and certainly better than certain adventure-seekers who have multiplied so much in recent times." The certificate of merit immediately began to circulate among the drunken guests, which Katerina Ivanovna did not prevent, because it really did specify, en toutes lettres, that she was the daughter of a court councillor and cavalier, and consequently really was almost a colonel's daughter. Inflamed, Katerina Ivanovna immediately expatiated on all the details of the future beautiful and peaceful life in T—; about the gymnasium teachers whom she would invite for lessons at her boarding school; about one respectable old gentleman, a Frenchman named Mangot, who had taught Katerina Ivanovna herself French at the institute and who was still living out his days in T— and would certainly come to her for the most reasonable fee. It finally came to Sonya, "who would go to T— together with Katerina Ivanovna and would help her with everything there." But here suddenly someone snorted at the end of the table. Though Katerina Ivanovna immediately tried to pretend she disdainfully didn't notice the laughter that had arisen at the end of the table, she immediately, deliberately raising her voice, began speaking with animation about Sofya Semyonovna's undoubted abilities to serve as her assistant, "about her gentleness, patience, self-sacrifice, nobility, and education," while she patted Sonya on the cheek and, standing up, warmly kissed her twice. Sonya blushed, and Katerina Ivanovna suddenly burst into tears, immediately remarking about herself that "she was a weak-nerved fool and that she was too upset, that it was time to finish, and since the refreshments were already finished, tea should be served." At this very moment Amalia Ivanovna, finally offended that she had taken not the slightest part in the entire conversation and that no one was even listening to her, suddenly ventured a last attempt and, with secret anguish, dared to communicate to Katerina Ivanovna an extremely practical and profound observation that in the future boarding school one must pay particular attention to the clean linen of the young ladies (die wäsche) and that "there absolutely must be one such good lady (die dame) to look after the linen well," and second, "that all the young ladies must quietly at night not read any novels." Katerina Ivanovna, who was indeed upset and very tired and who was already quite sick of the funeral repast, immediately "cut off" Amalia Ivanovna, saying she was "talking nonsense" and understood nothing; that concern for die wäsche was the business of a housekeeper and not the directress of a noble boarding school; and as for reading novels, that was simply even indecent, and she asked her to be silent. Amalia Ivanovna flushed and, becoming embittered, remarked that she only "wished good" and that she "wished very much good," and that she hadn't been paid "for the apartment for a long time already." Katerina Ivanovna immediately "put her in her place," saying that she was lying in saying she "wished good," because even yesterday, when the deceased was still lying on the table, she had tormented her about the apartment. To this Amalia Ivanovna quite logically remarked that she "had invited those ladies, but those ladies didn't come, because those ladies are noble ladies and couldn't come to an unnoble lady." Katerina Ivanovna immediately "emphasized" to her that since she was a ragamuffin, she couldn't judge what true nobility was. Amalia Ivanovna couldn't bear this and immediately declared that her "vater aus Berlin was very, very important man and walked with both hands in pockets and always went like this: puff! puff!" and to represent her vater more effectively, Amalia Ivanovna jumped up from her chair, thrust both hands in her pockets, puffed out her cheeks, and began emitting some indefinite sounds with her mouth resembling puff-puff, amid the loud laughter of all the tenants, who deliberately encouraged Amalia Ivanovna with their approval, anticipating a fight. But Katerina Ivanovna couldn't endure this and immediately, for all to hear, "articulated" that Amalia Ivanovna perhaps never even had a vater, but that she was simply a drunken Petersburg Finnish woman and had certainly worked somewhere before as a cook, or perhaps even worse. Amalia Ivanovna turned red as a lobster and shrieked that perhaps it was Katerina Ivanovna who "had no vater at all; but that she had a vater aus Berlin, and wore such a long frock coat, and always went: puff, puff, puff!" Katerina Ivanovna remarked contemptuously that her origin was known to everyone and that in that very certificate of merit it was specified in printed letters that her father was a colonel; and that Amalia Ivanovna's father (if she even had any sort of father) was probably some Petersburg Finnish milkman; but most likely she had no father at all, because it was still unknown even now what Amalia Ivanovna's patronymic was: Ivanovna or Ludwigovna? At this Amalia Ivanovna, finally infuriated and pounding her fist on the table, began shrieking that she was Amal-Ivan and not Ludwigovna, that her vater "was named Johann and was a burgomaster," and that Katerina Ivanovna's vater "was never a burgomaster at all." Katerina Ivanovna rose from her chair and in a stern, apparently calm voice (though quite pale and with her chest heaving deeply), remarked to her that if she dared even once more to "place on the same level her trashy little vater with her papa, then she, Katerina Ivanovna, would tear the cap from her head and trample it underfoot." Hearing this, Amalia Ivanovna began running about the room, shouting at the top of her lungs that she was the landlady and that Katerina Ivanovna "must leave the apartment this very minute"; then she rushed for some reason to gather the silver spoons from the table. There arose din and crash; the children began to cry. Sonya rushed to restrain Katerina Ivanovna; but when Amalia Ivanovna suddenly shouted something about a yellow ticket, Katerina Ivanovna pushed Sonya aside and rushed at Amalia Ivanovna to immediately carry out her threat regarding the cap. At that moment the door opened, and on the threshold of the room Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin suddenly appeared. He stood and surveyed the entire company with a stern, attentive gaze. Katerina Ivanovna rushed toward him.