CUSTOMS AND TRADITIONS OF GREAT BRITAIN 39 page

and prudent, however mean it may be, but what am I to do? If I hadn't

this, I might have to shoot myself. I am ready to admit that a decent

man ought to put up with being bored, but yet..."

"And could you shoot yourself?"

"Oh, come!" Svidrigailov parried with disgust. "Please don't speak of

it," he added hurriedly and with none of the bragging tone he had shown

in all the previous conversation. His face quite changed. "I admit it's

an unpardonable weakness, but I can't help it. I am afraid of death and

I dislike its being talked of. Do you know that I am to a certain extent

a mystic?"

"Ah, the apparitions of Marfa Petrovna! Do they still go on visiting

you?"

"Oh, don't talk of them; there have been no more in Petersburg, confound

them!" he cried with an air of irritation. "Let's rather talk of that...

though... H'm! I have not much time, and can't stay long with you,

it's a pity! I should have found plenty to tell you."

"What's your engagement, a woman?"

"Yes, a woman, a casual incident.... No, that's not what I want to talk

of."

"And the hideousness, the filthiness of all your surroundings, doesn't

that affect you? Have you lost the strength to stop yourself?"

"And do you pretend to strength, too? He-he-he! You surprised me just

now, Rodion Romanovitch, though I knew beforehand it would be so.

You preach to me about vice and aesthetics! You--a Schiller, you--an

idealist! Of course that's all as it should be and it would be

surprising if it were not so, yet it is strange in reality.... Ah,

what a pity I have no time, for you're a most interesting type! And,

by-the-way, are you fond of Schiller? I am awfully fond of him."

"But what a braggart you are," Raskolnikov said with some disgust.

"Upon my word, I am not," answered Svidrigailov laughing. "However, I

won't dispute it, let me be a braggart, why not brag, if it hurts no

one? I spent seven years in the country with Marfa Petrovna, so now when

I come across an intelligent person like you--intelligent and highly

interesting--I am simply glad to talk and, besides, I've drunk that

half-glass of champagne and it's gone to my head a little. And besides,

there's a certain fact that has wound me up tremendously, but about that

I... will keep quiet. Where are you off to?" he asked in alarm.

Raskolnikov had begun getting up. He felt oppressed and stifled and,

as it were, ill at ease at having come here. He felt convinced that

Svidrigailov was the most worthless scoundrel on the face of the earth.

"A-ach! Sit down, stay a little!" Svidrigailov begged. "Let them bring

you some tea, anyway. Stay a little, I won't talk nonsense, about

myself, I mean. I'll tell you something. If you like I'll tell you how a

woman tried 'to save' me, as you would call it? It will be an answer to

your first question indeed, for the woman was your sister. May I tell

you? It will help to spend the time."

"Tell me, but I trust that you..."

"Oh, don't be uneasy. Besides, even in a worthless low fellow like me,

Avdotya Romanovna can only excite the deepest respect."

CHAPTER IV

"You know perhaps--yes, I told you myself," began Svidrigailov, "that

I was in the debtors' prison here, for an immense sum, and had not

any expectation of being able to pay it. There's no need to go into

particulars how Marfa Petrovna bought me out; do you know to what a

point of insanity a woman can sometimes love? She was an honest woman,

and very sensible, although completely uneducated. Would you believe

that this honest and jealous woman, after many scenes of hysterics and

reproaches, condescended to enter into a kind of contract with me which

she kept throughout our married life? She was considerably older than

I, and besides, she always kept a clove or something in her mouth. There

was so much swinishness in my soul and honesty too, of a sort, as to

tell her straight out that I couldn't be absolutely faithful to her.

This confession drove her to frenzy, but yet she seems in a way to have

liked my brutal frankness. She thought it showed I was unwilling to

deceive her if I warned her like this beforehand and for a jealous

woman, you know, that's the first consideration. After many tears an

unwritten contract was drawn up between us: first, that I would never

leave Marfa Petrovna and would always be her husband; secondly, that I

would never absent myself without her permission; thirdly, that I would

never set up a permanent mistress; fourthly, in return for this, Marfa

Petrovna gave me a free hand with the maidservants, but only with her

secret knowledge; fifthly, God forbid my falling in love with a woman of

our class; sixthly, in case I--which God forbid--should be visited by

a great serious passion I was bound to reveal it to Marfa Petrovna. On

this last score, however, Marfa Petrovna was fairly at ease. She was a

sensible woman and so she could not help looking upon me as a dissolute

profligate incapable of real love. But a sensible woman and a jealous

woman are two very different things, and that's where the trouble

came in. But to judge some people impartially we must renounce certain

preconceived opinions and our habitual attitude to the ordinary people

about us. I have reason to have faith in your judgment rather than

in anyone's. Perhaps you have already heard a great deal that was

ridiculous and absurd about Marfa Petrovna. She certainly had some very

ridiculous ways, but I tell you frankly that I feel really sorry for the

innumerable woes of which I was the cause. Well, and that's enough, I

think, by way of a decorous _oraison funebre_ for the most tender wife

of a most tender husband. When we quarrelled, I usually held my tongue

and did not irritate her and that gentlemanly conduct rarely failed to

attain its object, it influenced her, it pleased her, indeed. These were

times when she was positively proud of me. But your sister she couldn't

put up with, anyway. And however she came to risk taking such a

beautiful creature into her house as a governess. My explanation is that

Marfa Petrovna was an ardent and impressionable woman and simply fell

in love herself--literally fell in love--with your sister. Well, little

wonder--look at Avdotya Romanovna! I saw the danger at the first glance

and what do you think, I resolved not to look at her even. But Avdotya

Romanovna herself made the first step, would you believe it? Would you

believe it too that Marfa Petrovna was positively angry with me at first

for my persistent silence about your sister, for my careless reception

of her continual adoring praises of Avdotya Romanovna. I don't know

what it was she wanted! Well, of course, Marfa Petrovna told Avdotya

Romanovna every detail about me. She had the unfortunate habit of

telling literally everyone all our family secrets and continually

complaining of me; how could she fail to confide in such a delightful

new friend? I expect they talked of nothing else but me and no doubt

Avdotya Romanovna heard all those dark mysterious rumours that were

current about me.... I don't mind betting that you too have heard

something of the sort already?"

"I have. Luzhin charged you with having caused the death of a child. Is

that true?"

"Don't refer to those vulgar tales, I beg," said Svidrigailov with

disgust and annoyance. "If you insist on wanting to know about all that

idiocy, I will tell you one day, but now..."

"I was told too about some footman of yours in the country whom you

treated badly."

"I beg you to drop the subject," Svidrigailov interrupted again with

obvious impatience.

"Was that the footman who came to you after death to fill your pipe?...

you told me about it yourself." Raskolnikov felt more and more

irritated.

Svidrigailov looked at him attentively and Raskolnikov fancied he caught

a flash of spiteful mockery in that look. But Svidrigailov restrained

himself and answered very civilly:

"Yes, it was. I see that you, too, are extremely interested and shall

feel it my duty to satisfy your curiosity at the first opportunity. Upon

my soul! I see that I really might pass for a romantic figure with

some people. Judge how grateful I must be to Marfa Petrovna for having

repeated to Avdotya Romanovna such mysterious and interesting gossip

about me. I dare not guess what impression it made on her, but in any

case it worked in my interests. With all Avdotya Romanovna's natural

aversion and in spite of my invariably gloomy and repellent aspect--she

did at least feel pity for me, pity for a lost soul. And if once a

girl's heart is moved to _pity_, it's more dangerous than anything. She

is bound to want to 'save him,' to bring him to his senses, and lift

him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and

usefulness--well, we all know how far such dreams can go. I saw at once

that the bird was flying into the cage of herself. And I too made ready.

I think you are frowning, Rodion Romanovitch? There's no need. As you

know, it all ended in smoke. (Hang it all, what a lot I am drinking!)

Do you know, I always, from the very beginning, regretted that it wasn't

your sister's fate to be born in the second or third century A.D., as

the daughter of a reigning prince or some governor or pro-consul in Asia

Minor. She would undoubtedly have been one of those who would endure

martyrdom and would have smiled when they branded her bosom with hot

pincers. And she would have gone to it of herself. And in the fourth or

fifth century she would have walked away into the Egyptian desert and

would have stayed there thirty years living on roots and ecstasies and

visions. She is simply thirsting to face some torture for someone, and

if she can't get her torture, she'll throw herself out of a window. I've

heard something of a Mr. Razumihin--he's said to be a sensible fellow;

his surname suggests it, indeed. He's probably a divinity student. Well,

he'd better look after your sister! I believe I understand her, and I am

proud of it. But at the beginning of an acquaintance, as you know, one

is apt to be more heedless and stupid. One doesn't see clearly. Hang it

all, why is she so handsome? It's not my fault. In fact, it began on

my side with a most irresistible physical desire. Avdotya Romanovna is

awfully chaste, incredibly and phenomenally so. Take note, I tell you

this about your sister as a fact. She is almost morbidly chaste, in

spite of her broad intelligence, and it will stand in her way. There

happened to be a girl in the house then, Parasha, a black-eyed

wench, whom I had never seen before--she had just come from another

village--very pretty, but incredibly stupid: she burst into tears,

wailed so that she could be heard all over the place and caused scandal.

One day after dinner Avdotya Romanovna followed me into an avenue in

the garden and with flashing eyes _insisted_ on my leaving poor Parasha

alone. It was almost our first conversation by ourselves. I, of course,

was only too pleased to obey her wishes, tried to appear disconcerted,

embarrassed, in fact played my part not badly. Then came interviews,

mysterious conversations, exhortations, entreaties, supplications, even

tears--would you believe it, even tears? Think what the passion for

propaganda will bring some girls to! I, of course, threw it all on

my destiny, posed as hungering and thirsting for light, and finally

resorted to the most powerful weapon in the subjection of the

female heart, a weapon which never fails one. It's the well-known

resource--flattery. Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the

truth and nothing easier than flattery. If there's the hundredth part

of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that

leads to trouble. But if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it

is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be

a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the

flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That's so for all

stages of development and classes of society. A vestal virgin might be

seduced by flattery. I can never remember without laughter how I once

seduced a lady who was devoted to her husband, her children, and her

principles. What fun it was and how little trouble! And the lady really

had principles--of her own, anyway. All my tactics lay in simply being

utterly annihilated and prostrate before her purity. I flattered her

shamelessly, and as soon as I succeeded in getting a pressure of

the hand, even a glance from her, I would reproach myself for having

snatched it by force, and would declare that she had resisted, so that

I could never have gained anything but for my being so unprincipled.

I maintained that she was so innocent that she could not foresee my

treachery, and yielded to me unconsciously, unawares, and so on. In

fact, I triumphed, while my lady remained firmly convinced that she was

innocent, chaste, and faithful to all her duties and obligations and

had succumbed quite by accident. And how angry she was with me when I

explained to her at last that it was my sincere conviction that she was

just as eager as I. Poor Marfa Petrovna was awfully weak on the side of

flattery, and if I had only cared to, I might have had all her property

settled on me during her lifetime. (I am drinking an awful lot of wine

now and talking too much.) I hope you won't be angry if I mention now

that I was beginning to produce the same effect on Avdotya Romanovna.

But I was stupid and impatient and spoiled it all. Avdotya Romanovna had

several times--and one time in particular--been greatly displeased by

the expression of my eyes, would you believe it? There was sometimes a

light in them which frightened her and grew stronger and stronger and

more unguarded till it was hateful to her. No need to go into detail,

but we parted. There I acted stupidly again. I fell to jeering in the

coarsest way at all such propaganda and efforts to convert me; Parasha

came on to the scene again, and not she alone; in fact there was a

tremendous to-do. Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, if you could only see how your

sister's eyes can flash sometimes! Never mind my being drunk at this

moment and having had a whole glass of wine. I am speaking the truth.

I assure you that this glance has haunted my dreams; the very rustle of

her dress was more than I could stand at last. I really began to think

that I might become epileptic. I could never have believed that I could

be moved to such a frenzy. It was essential, indeed, to be reconciled,

but by then it was impossible. And imagine what I did then! To what

a pitch of stupidity a man can be brought by frenzy! Never undertake

anything in a frenzy, Rodion Romanovitch. I reflected that Avdotya

Romanovna was after all a beggar (ach, excuse me, that's not the word...

but does it matter if it expresses the meaning?), that she lived by

her work, that she had her mother and you to keep (ach, hang it, you

are frowning again), and I resolved to offer her all my money--thirty

thousand roubles I could have realised then--if she would run away with

me here, to Petersburg. Of course I should have vowed eternal love,

rapture, and so on. Do you know, I was so wild about her at that time

that if she had told me to poison Marfa Petrovna or to cut her throat

and to marry herself, it would have been done at once! But it ended in

the catastrophe of which you know already. You can fancy how frantic I

was when I heard that Marfa Petrovna had got hold of that scoundrelly

attorney, Luzhin, and had almost made a match between them--which would

really have been just the same thing as I was proposing. Wouldn't it?

Wouldn't it? I notice that you've begun to be very attentive... you

interesting young man...."

Svidrigailov struck the table with his fist impatiently. He was flushed.

Raskolnikov saw clearly that the glass or glass and a half of champagne

that he had sipped almost unconsciously was affecting him--and he

resolved to take advantage of the opportunity. He felt very suspicious

of Svidrigailov.

"Well, after what you have said, I am fully convinced that you have

come to Petersburg with designs on my sister," he said directly to

Svidrigailov, in order to irritate him further.

"Oh, nonsense," said Svidrigailov, seeming to rouse himself. "Why, I

told you... besides your sister can't endure me."

"Yes, I am certain that she can't, but that's not the point."

"Are you so sure that she can't?" Svidrigailov screwed up his eyes and

smiled mockingly. "You are right, she doesn't love me, but you can

never be sure of what has passed between husband and wife or lover and

mistress. There's always a little corner which remains a secret to

the world and is only known to those two. Will you answer for it that

Avdotya Romanovna regarded me with aversion?"

"From some words you've dropped, I notice that you still have

designs--and of course evil ones--on Dounia and mean to carry them out

promptly."

"What, have I dropped words like that?" Svidrigailov asked in naive

dismay, taking not the slightest notice of the epithet bestowed on his

designs.

"Why, you are dropping them even now. Why are you so frightened? What

are you so afraid of now?"

"Me--afraid? Afraid of you? You have rather to be afraid of me, _cher

ami_. But what nonsense.... I've drunk too much though, I see that. I

was almost saying too much again. Damn the wine! Hi! there, water!"

He snatched up the champagne bottle and flung it without ceremony out of

the window. Philip brought the water.

"That's all nonsense!" said Svidrigailov, wetting a towel and putting it

to his head. "But I can answer you in one word and annihilate all your

suspicions. Do you know that I am going to get married?"

"You told me so before."

"Did I? I've forgotten. But I couldn't have told you so for certain for

I had not even seen my betrothed; I only meant to. But now I really

have a betrothed and it's a settled thing, and if it weren't that I have

business that can't be put off, I would have taken you to see them

at once, for I should like to ask your advice. Ach, hang it, only ten

minutes left! See, look at the watch. But I must tell you, for it's an

interesting story, my marriage, in its own way. Where are you off to?

Going again?"

"No, I'm not going away now."

"Not at all? We shall see. I'll take you there, I'll show you my

betrothed, only not now. For you'll soon have to be off. You have to go

to the right and I to the left. Do you know that Madame Resslich, the

woman I am lodging with now, eh? I know what you're thinking, that she's

the woman whose girl they say drowned herself in the winter. Come, are

you listening? She arranged it all for me. You're bored, she said,

you want something to fill up your time. For, you know, I am a gloomy,

depressed person. Do you think I'm light-hearted? No, I'm gloomy. I do

no harm, but sit in a corner without speaking a word for three days at a

time. And that Resslich is a sly hussy, I tell you. I know what she has

got in her mind; she thinks I shall get sick of it, abandon my wife and

depart, and she'll get hold of her and make a profit out of her--in our

class, of course, or higher. She told me the father was a broken-down

retired official, who has been sitting in a chair for the last three

years with his legs paralysed. The mamma, she said, was a sensible

woman. There is a son serving in the provinces, but he doesn't help;

there is a daughter, who is married, but she doesn't visit them. And

they've two little nephews on their hands, as though their own children

were not enough, and they've taken from school their youngest daughter,

a girl who'll be sixteen in another month, so that then she can be

married. She was for me. We went there. How funny it was! I present

myself--a landowner, a widower, of a well-known name, with connections,

with a fortune. What if I am fifty and she is not sixteen? Who thinks

of that? But it's fascinating, isn't it? It is fascinating, ha-ha! You

should have seen how I talked to the papa and mamma. It was worth paying

to have seen me at that moment. She comes in, curtseys, you can fancy,

still in a short frock--an unopened bud! Flushing like a sunset--she had

been told, no doubt. I don't know how you feel about female faces, but

to my mind these sixteen years, these childish eyes, shyness and tears

of bashfulness are better than beauty; and she is a perfect little

picture, too. Fair hair in little curls, like a lamb's, full little rosy

lips, tiny feet, a charmer!... Well, we made friends. I told them I was

in a hurry owing to domestic circumstances, and the next day, that is

the day before yesterday, we were betrothed. When I go now I take her on

my knee at once and keep her there.... Well, she flushes like a sunset

and I kiss her every minute. Her mamma of course impresses on her that

this is her husband and that this must be so. It's simply delicious! The

present betrothed condition is perhaps better than marriage. Here you

have what is called _la nature et la verite_, ha-ha! I've talked to her

twice, she is far from a fool. Sometimes she steals a look at me that

positively scorches me. Her face is like Raphael's Madonna. You know,

the Sistine Madonna's face has something fantastic in it, the face

of mournful religious ecstasy. Haven't you noticed it? Well, she's

something in that line. The day after we'd been betrothed, I bought her

presents to the value of fifteen hundred roubles--a set of diamonds and

another of pearls and a silver dressing-case as large as this, with all

sorts of things in it, so that even my Madonna's face glowed. I sat her

on my knee, yesterday, and I suppose rather too unceremoniously--she

flushed crimson and the tears started, but she didn't want to show it.

We were left alone, she suddenly flung herself on my neck (for the first

time of her own accord), put her little arms round me, kissed me, and

vowed that she would be an obedient, faithful, and good wife, would make

me happy, would devote all her life, every minute of her life, would

sacrifice everything, everything, and that all she asks in return is

my _respect_, and that she wants 'nothing, nothing more from me, no

presents.' You'll admit that to hear such a confession, alone, from an

angel of sixteen in a muslin frock, with little curls, with a flush

of maiden shyness in her cheeks and tears of enthusiasm in her eyes is

rather fascinating! Isn't it fascinating? It's worth paying for, isn't

it? Well... listen, we'll go to see my betrothed, only not just now!"

"The fact is this monstrous difference in age and development excites

your sensuality! Will you really make such a marriage?"

"Why, of course. Everyone thinks of himself, and he lives most gaily who

knows best how to deceive himself. Ha-ha! But why are you so keen about

virtue? Have mercy on me, my good friend. I am a sinful man. Ha-ha-ha!"

"But you have provided for the children of Katerina Ivanovna. Though...

though you had your own reasons.... I understand it all now."

"I am always fond of children, very fond of them," laughed Svidrigailov.

"I can tell you one curious instance of it. The first day I came here I

visited various haunts, after seven years I simply rushed at them. You

probably notice that I am not in a hurry to renew acquaintance with my

old friends. I shall do without them as long as I can. Do you know, when

I was with Marfa Petrovna in the country, I was haunted by the thought

of these places where anyone who knows his way about can find a great

deal. Yes, upon my soul! The peasants have vodka, the educated young

people, shut out from activity, waste themselves in impossible dreams

and visions and are crippled by theories; Jews have sprung up and are

amassing money, and all the rest give themselves up to debauchery. From

the first hour the town reeked of its familiar odours. I chanced to be

in a frightful den--I like my dens dirty--it was a dance, so called, and

there was a _cancan_ such as I never saw in my day. Yes, there you

have progress. All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely

dressed, dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one

_vis-a-vis_. Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall. You can't

fancy what a _cancan_ that was! The girl was ashamed, blushed, at

last felt insulted, and began to cry. Her partner seized her and began

whirling her round and performing before her; everyone laughed and--I

like your public, even the _cancan_ public--they laughed and shouted,

'Serves her right--serves her right! Shouldn't bring children!' Well,

it's not my business whether that consoling reflection was logical or

not. I at once fixed on my plan, sat down by the mother, and began by

saying that I too was a stranger and that people here were ill-bred and

that they couldn't distinguish decent folks and treat them with respect,

gave her to understand that I had plenty of money, offered to take them

home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know them. They were

lodging in a miserable little hole and had only just arrived from the

country. She told me that she and her daughter could only regard my

acquaintance as an honour. I found out that they had nothing of their

own and had come to town upon some legal business. I proffered my

services and money. I learnt that they had gone to the dancing saloon

by mistake, believing that it was a genuine dancing class. I offered to

assist in the young girl's education in French and dancing. My offer was

accepted with enthusiasm as an honour--and we are still friendly.... If

you like, we'll go and see them, only not just now."

"Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty anecdotes, depraved vile, sensual

man!"

"Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! _O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher?_

But you know I shall tell you these things on purpose, for the pleasure

of hearing your outcries!"

"I dare say. I can see I am ridiculous myself," muttered Raskolnikov

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