CUSTOMS AND TRADITIONS OF GREAT BRITAIN 25 page

explanation with mother."

"Precisely so, Avdotya Romanovna," Pyotr Petrovitch answered

impressively, sitting down again, but still holding his hat. "I

certainly desired an explanation with you and your honoured mother upon

a very important point indeed. But as your brother cannot speak openly

in my presence of some proposals of Mr. Svidrigailov, I, too, do not

desire and am not able to speak openly... in the presence of others...

of certain matters of the greatest gravity. Moreover, my most weighty

and urgent request has been disregarded...."

Assuming an aggrieved air, Luzhin relapsed into dignified silence.

"Your request that my brother should not be present at our meeting was

disregarded solely at my instance," said Dounia. "You wrote that you

had been insulted by my brother; I think that this must be explained at

once, and you must be reconciled. And if Rodya really has insulted you,

then he _should_ and _will_ apologise."

Pyotr Petrovitch took a stronger line.

"There are insults, Avdotya Romanovna, which no goodwill can make us

forget. There is a line in everything which it is dangerous to overstep;

and when it has been overstepped, there is no return."

"That wasn't what I was speaking of exactly, Pyotr Petrovitch," Dounia

interrupted with some impatience. "Please understand that our whole

future depends now on whether all this is explained and set right as

soon as possible. I tell you frankly at the start that I cannot look at

it in any other light, and if you have the least regard for me, all this

business must be ended to-day, however hard that may be. I repeat that

if my brother is to blame he will ask your forgiveness."

"I am surprised at your putting the question like that," said Luzhin,

getting more and more irritated. "Esteeming, and so to say, adoring you,

I may at the same time, very well indeed, be able to dislike some member

of your family. Though I lay claim to the happiness of your hand, I

cannot accept duties incompatible with..."

"Ah, don't be so ready to take offence, Pyotr Petrovitch," Dounia

interrupted with feeling, "and be the sensible and generous man I have

always considered, and wish to consider, you to be. I've given you a

great promise, I am your betrothed. Trust me in this matter and, believe

me, I shall be capable of judging impartially. My assuming the part of

judge is as much a surprise for my brother as for you. When I insisted

on his coming to our interview to-day after your letter, I told

him nothing of what I meant to do. Understand that, if you are not

reconciled, I must choose between you--it must be either you or he. That

is how the question rests on your side and on his. I don't want to be

mistaken in my choice, and I must not be. For your sake I must break off

with my brother, for my brother's sake I must break off with you. I can

find out for certain now whether he is a brother to me, and I want to

know it; and of you, whether I am dear to you, whether you esteem me,

whether you are the husband for me."

"Avdotya Romanovna," Luzhin declared huffily, "your words are of too

much consequence to me; I will say more, they are offensive in view

of the position I have the honour to occupy in relation to you. To say

nothing of your strange and offensive setting me on a level with an

impertinent boy, you admit the possibility of breaking your promise to

me. You say 'you or he,' showing thereby of how little consequence I

am in your eyes... I cannot let this pass considering the relationship

and... the obligations existing between us."

"What!" cried Dounia, flushing. "I set your interest beside all that has

hitherto been most precious in my life, what has made up the _whole_ of

my life, and here you are offended at my making too _little_ account of

you."

Raskolnikov smiled sarcastically, Razumihin fidgeted, but Pyotr

Petrovitch did not accept the reproof; on the contrary, at every word he

became more persistent and irritable, as though he relished it.

"Love for the future partner of your life, for your husband, ought to

outweigh your love for your brother," he pronounced sententiously, "and

in any case I cannot be put on the same level.... Although I said so

emphatically that I would not speak openly in your brother's presence,

nevertheless, I intend now to ask your honoured mother for a necessary

explanation on a point of great importance closely affecting my dignity.

Your son," he turned to Pulcheria Alexandrovna, "yesterday in the

presence of Mr. Razsudkin (or... I think that's it? excuse me I have

forgotten your surname," he bowed politely to Razumihin) "insulted me by

misrepresenting the idea I expressed to you in a private conversation,

drinking coffee, that is, that marriage with a poor girl who has had

experience of trouble is more advantageous from the conjugal point of

view than with one who has lived in luxury, since it is more profitable

for the moral character. Your son intentionally exaggerated the

significance of my words and made them ridiculous, accusing me of

malicious intentions, and, as far as I could see, relied upon your

correspondence with him. I shall consider myself happy, Pulcheria

Alexandrovna, if it is possible for you to convince me of an opposite

conclusion, and thereby considerately reassure me. Kindly let me know

in what terms precisely you repeated my words in your letter to Rodion

Romanovitch."

"I don't remember," faltered Pulcheria Alexandrovna. "I repeated them as

I understood them. I don't know how Rodya repeated them to you, perhaps

he exaggerated."

"He could not have exaggerated them, except at your instigation."

"Pyotr Petrovitch," Pulcheria Alexandrovna declared with dignity, "the

proof that Dounia and I did not take your words in a very bad sense is

the fact that we are here."

"Good, mother," said Dounia approvingly.

"Then this is my fault again," said Luzhin, aggrieved.

"Well, Pyotr Petrovitch, you keep blaming Rodion, but you yourself have

just written what was false about him," Pulcheria Alexandrovna added,

gaining courage.

"I don't remember writing anything false."

"You wrote," Raskolnikov said sharply, not turning to Luzhin, "that I

gave money yesterday not to the widow of the man who was killed, as was

the fact, but to his daughter (whom I had never seen till yesterday).

You wrote this to make dissension between me and my family, and for that

object added coarse expressions about the conduct of a girl whom you

don't know. All that is mean slander."

"Excuse me, sir," said Luzhin, quivering with fury. "I enlarged upon

your qualities and conduct in my letter solely in response to your

sister's and mother's inquiries, how I found you, and what impression

you made on me. As for what you've alluded to in my letter, be so good

as to point out one word of falsehood, show, that is, that you didn't

throw away your money, and that there are not worthless persons in that

family, however unfortunate."

"To my thinking, you, with all your virtues, are not worth the little

finger of that unfortunate girl at whom you throw stones."

"Would you go so far then as to let her associate with your mother and

sister?"

"I have done so already, if you care to know. I made her sit down to-day

with mother and Dounia."

"Rodya!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Dounia crimsoned, Razumihin

knitted his brows. Luzhin smiled with lofty sarcasm.

"You may see for yourself, Avdotya Romanovna," he said, "whether it is

possible for us to agree. I hope now that this question is at an end,

once and for all. I will withdraw, that I may not hinder the pleasures

of family intimacy, and the discussion of secrets." He got up from his

chair and took his hat. "But in withdrawing, I venture to request

that for the future I may be spared similar meetings, and, so to

say, compromises. I appeal particularly to you, honoured Pulcheria

Alexandrovna, on this subject, the more as my letter was addressed to

you and to no one else."

Pulcheria Alexandrovna was a little offended.

"You seem to think we are completely under your authority, Pyotr

Petrovitch. Dounia has told you the reason your desire was disregarded,

she had the best intentions. And indeed you write as though you were

laying commands upon me. Are we to consider every desire of yours as

a command? Let me tell you on the contrary that you ought to show

particular delicacy and consideration for us now, because we have thrown

up everything, and have come here relying on you, and so we are in any

case in a sense in your hands."

"That is not quite true, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, especially at the

present moment, when the news has come of Marfa Petrovna's legacy, which

seems indeed very apropos, judging from the new tone you take to me," he

added sarcastically.

"Judging from that remark, we may certainly presume that you were

reckoning on our helplessness," Dounia observed irritably.

"But now in any case I cannot reckon on it, and I particularly desire

not to hinder your discussion of the secret proposals of Arkady

Ivanovitch Svidrigailov, which he has entrusted to your brother and

which have, I perceive, a great and possibly a very agreeable interest

for you."

"Good heavens!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.

Razumihin could not sit still on his chair.

"Aren't you ashamed now, sister?" asked Raskolnikov.

"I am ashamed, Rodya," said Dounia. "Pyotr Petrovitch, go away," she

turned to him, white with anger.

Pyotr Petrovitch had apparently not at all expected such a conclusion.

He had too much confidence in himself, in his power and in the

helplessness of his victims. He could not believe it even now. He turned

pale, and his lips quivered.

"Avdotya Romanovna, if I go out of this door now, after such a

dismissal, then, you may reckon on it, I will never come back. Consider

what you are doing. My word is not to be shaken."

"What insolence!" cried Dounia, springing up from her seat. "I don't

want you to come back again."

"What! So that's how it stands!" cried Luzhin, utterly unable to the

last moment to believe in the rupture and so completely thrown out of

his reckoning now. "So that's how it stands! But do you know, Avdotya

Romanovna, that I might protest?"

"What right have you to speak to her like that?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna

intervened hotly. "And what can you protest about? What rights have you?

Am I to give my Dounia to a man like you? Go away, leave us altogether!

We are to blame for having agreed to a wrong action, and I above

all...."

"But you have bound me, Pulcheria Alexandrovna," Luzhin stormed in a

frenzy, "by your promise, and now you deny it and... besides... I have

been led on account of that into expenses...."

This last complaint was so characteristic of Pyotr Petrovitch, that

Raskolnikov, pale with anger and with the effort of restraining it,

could not help breaking into laughter. But Pulcheria Alexandrovna was

furious.

"Expenses? What expenses? Are you speaking of our trunk? But the

conductor brought it for nothing for you. Mercy on us, we have bound

you! What are you thinking about, Pyotr Petrovitch, it was you bound us,

hand and foot, not we!"

"Enough, mother, no more please," Avdotya Romanovna implored. "Pyotr

Petrovitch, do be kind and go!"

"I am going, but one last word," he said, quite unable to control

himself. "Your mamma seems to have entirely forgotten that I made up my

mind to take you, so to speak, after the gossip of the town had spread

all over the district in regard to your reputation. Disregarding public

opinion for your sake and reinstating your reputation, I certainly

might very well reckon on a fitting return, and might indeed look for

gratitude on your part. And my eyes have only now been opened! I see

myself that I may have acted very, very recklessly in disregarding the

universal verdict...."

"Does the fellow want his head smashed?" cried Razumihin, jumping up.

"You are a mean and spiteful man!" cried Dounia.

"Not a word! Not a movement!" cried Raskolnikov, holding Razumihin back;

then going close up to Luzhin, "Kindly leave the room!" he said quietly

and distinctly, "and not a word more or..."

Pyotr Petrovitch gazed at him for some seconds with a pale face that

worked with anger, then he turned, went out, and rarely has any man

carried away in his heart such vindictive hatred as he felt against

Raskolnikov. Him, and him alone, he blamed for everything. It is

noteworthy that as he went downstairs he still imagined that his case

was perhaps not utterly lost, and that, so far as the ladies were

concerned, all might "very well indeed" be set right again.

CHAPTER III

The fact was that up to the last moment he had never expected such an

ending; he had been overbearing to the last degree, never dreaming that

two destitute and defenceless women could escape from his control. This

conviction was strengthened by his vanity and conceit, a conceit to

the point of fatuity. Pyotr Petrovitch, who had made his way up from

insignificance, was morbidly given to self-admiration, had the highest

opinion of his intelligence and capacities, and sometimes even gloated

in solitude over his image in the glass. But what he loved and valued

above all was the money he had amassed by his labour, and by all sorts

of devices: that money made him the equal of all who had been his

superiors.

When he had bitterly reminded Dounia that he had decided to take her in

spite of evil report, Pyotr Petrovitch had spoken with perfect sincerity

and had, indeed, felt genuinely indignant at such "black ingratitude."

And yet, when he made Dounia his offer, he was fully aware of the

groundlessness of all the gossip. The story had been everywhere

contradicted by Marfa Petrovna, and was by then disbelieved by all the

townspeople, who were warm in Dounia'a defence. And he would not have

denied that he knew all that at the time. Yet he still thought highly

of his own resolution in lifting Dounia to his level and regarded it as

something heroic. In speaking of it to Dounia, he had let out the secret

feeling he cherished and admired, and he could not understand that

others should fail to admire it too. He had called on Raskolnikov with

the feelings of a benefactor who is about to reap the fruits of his good

deeds and to hear agreeable flattery. And as he went downstairs now, he

considered himself most undeservedly injured and unrecognised.

Dounia was simply essential to him; to do without her was unthinkable.

For many years he had had voluptuous dreams of marriage, but he had

gone on waiting and amassing money. He brooded with relish, in profound

secret, over the image of a girl--virtuous, poor (she must be poor),

very young, very pretty, of good birth and education, very timid, one

who had suffered much, and was completely humbled before him, one who

would all her life look on him as her saviour, worship him, admire him

and only him. How many scenes, how many amorous episodes he had imagined

on this seductive and playful theme, when his work was over! And,

behold, the dream of so many years was all but realised; the beauty and

education of Avdotya Romanovna had impressed him; her helpless position

had been a great allurement; in her he had found even more than he

dreamed of. Here was a girl of pride, character, virtue, of education

and breeding superior to his own (he felt that), and this creature would

be slavishly grateful all her life for his heroic condescension, and

would humble herself in the dust before him, and he would have absolute,

unbounded power over her!... Not long before, he had, too, after long

reflection and hesitation, made an important change in his career and

was now entering on a wider circle of business. With this change his

cherished dreams of rising into a higher class of society seemed likely

to be realised.... He was, in fact, determined to try his fortune

in Petersburg. He knew that women could do a very great deal. The

fascination of a charming, virtuous, highly educated woman might make

his way easier, might do wonders in attracting people to him, throwing

an aureole round him, and now everything was in ruins! This sudden

horrible rupture affected him like a clap of thunder; it was like a

hideous joke, an absurdity. He had only been a tiny bit masterful,

had not even time to speak out, had simply made a joke, been carried

away--and it had ended so seriously. And, of course, too, he did love

Dounia in his own way; he already possessed her in his dreams--and all

at once! No! The next day, the very next day, it must all be set right,

smoothed over, settled. Above all he must crush that conceited milksop

who was the cause of it all. With a sick feeling he could not help

recalling Razumihin too, but, he soon reassured himself on that score;

as though a fellow like that could be put on a level with him! The man

he really dreaded in earnest was Svidrigailov.... He had, in short, a

great deal to attend to....

*****

"No, I, I am more to blame than anyone!" said Dounia, kissing and

embracing her mother. "I was tempted by his money, but on my honour,

brother, I had no idea he was such a base man. If I had seen through him

before, nothing would have tempted me! Don't blame me, brother!"

"God has delivered us! God has delivered us!" Pulcheria Alexandrovna

muttered, but half consciously, as though scarcely able to realise what

had happened.

They were all relieved, and in five minutes they were laughing. Only now

and then Dounia turned white and frowned, remembering what had passed.

Pulcheria Alexandrovna was surprised to find that she, too, was glad:

she had only that morning thought rupture with Luzhin a terrible

misfortune. Razumihin was delighted. He did not yet dare to express his

joy fully, but he was in a fever of excitement as though a ton-weight

had fallen off his heart. Now he had the right to devote his life to

them, to serve them.... Anything might happen now! But he felt afraid to

think of further possibilities and dared not let his imagination

range. But Raskolnikov sat still in the same place, almost sullen and

indifferent. Though he had been the most insistent on getting rid of

Luzhin, he seemed now the least concerned at what had happened. Dounia

could not help thinking that he was still angry with her, and Pulcheria

Alexandrovna watched him timidly.

"What did Svidrigailov say to you?" said Dounia, approaching him.

"Yes, yes!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.

Raskolnikov raised his head.

"He wants to make you a present of ten thousand roubles and he desires

to see you once in my presence."

"See her! On no account!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. "And how dare he

offer her money!"

Then Raskolnikov repeated (rather dryly) his conversation with

Svidrigailov, omitting his account of the ghostly visitations of Marfa

Petrovna, wishing to avoid all unnecessary talk.

"What answer did you give him?" asked Dounia.

"At first I said I would not take any message to you. Then he said that

he would do his utmost to obtain an interview with you without my help.

He assured me that his passion for you was a passing infatuation, now he

has no feeling for you. He doesn't want you to marry Luzhin.... His talk

was altogether rather muddled."

"How do you explain him to yourself, Rodya? How did he strike you?"

"I must confess I don't quite understand him. He offers you ten

thousand, and yet says he is not well off. He says he is going away, and

in ten minutes he forgets he has said it. Then he says is he going to be

married and has already fixed on the girl.... No doubt he has a motive,

and probably a bad one. But it's odd that he should be so clumsy about

it if he had any designs against you.... Of course, I refused this

money on your account, once for all. Altogether, I thought him very

strange.... One might almost think he was mad. But I may be mistaken;

that may only be the part he assumes. The death of Marfa Petrovna seems

to have made a great impression on him."

"God rest her soul," exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna. "I shall always,

always pray for her! Where should we be now, Dounia, without this three

thousand! It's as though it had fallen from heaven! Why, Rodya, this

morning we had only three roubles in our pocket and Dounia and I were

just planning to pawn her watch, so as to avoid borrowing from that man

until he offered help."

Dounia seemed strangely impressed by Svidrigailov's offer. She still

stood meditating.

"He has got some terrible plan," she said in a half whisper to herself,

almost shuddering.

Raskolnikov noticed this disproportionate terror.

"I fancy I shall have to see him more than once again," he said to

Dounia.

"We will watch him! I will track him out!" cried Razumihin, vigorously.

"I won't lose sight of him. Rodya has given me leave. He said to me

himself just now. 'Take care of my sister.' Will you give me leave, too,

Avdotya Romanovna?"

Dounia smiled and held out her hand, but the look of anxiety did not

leave her face. Pulcheria Alexandrovna gazed at her timidly, but the

three thousand roubles had obviously a soothing effect on her.

A quarter of an hour later, they were all engaged in a lively

conversation. Even Raskolnikov listened attentively for some time,

though he did not talk. Razumihin was the speaker.

"And why, why should you go away?" he flowed on ecstatically. "And what

are you to do in a little town? The great thing is, you are all here

together and you need one another--you do need one another, believe me.

For a time, anyway.... Take me into partnership, and I assure you we'll

plan a capital enterprise. Listen! I'll explain it all in detail to

you, the whole project! It all flashed into my head this morning,

before anything had happened... I tell you what; I have an uncle, I must

introduce him to you (a most accommodating and respectable old man).

This uncle has got a capital of a thousand roubles, and he lives on his

pension and has no need of that money. For the last two years he has

been bothering me to borrow it from him and pay him six per cent.

interest. I know what that means; he simply wants to help me. Last year

I had no need of it, but this year I resolved to borrow it as soon as

he arrived. Then you lend me another thousand of your three and we have

enough for a start, so we'll go into partnership, and what are we going

to do?"

Then Razumihin began to unfold his project, and he explained at length

that almost all our publishers and booksellers know nothing at all

of what they are selling, and for that reason they are usually bad

publishers, and that any decent publications pay as a rule and give

a profit, sometimes a considerable one. Razumihin had, indeed, been

dreaming of setting up as a publisher. For the last two years he had

been working in publishers' offices, and knew three European languages

well, though he had told Raskolnikov six days before that he was

"schwach" in German with an object of persuading him to take half his

translation and half the payment for it. He had told a lie then, and

Raskolnikov knew he was lying.

"Why, why should we let our chance slip when we have one of the chief

means of success--money of our own!" cried Razumihin warmly. "Of course

there will be a lot of work, but we will work, you, Avdotya Romanovna,

I, Rodion.... You get a splendid profit on some books nowadays! And

the great point of the business is that we shall know just what wants

translating, and we shall be translating, publishing, learning all at

once. I can be of use because I have experience. For nearly two years

I've been scuttling about among the publishers, and now I know every

detail of their business. You need not be a saint to make pots, believe

me! And why, why should we let our chance slip! Why, I know--and I kept

the secret--two or three books which one might get a hundred roubles

simply for thinking of translating and publishing. Indeed, and I would

not take five hundred for the very idea of one of them. And what do you

think? If I were to tell a publisher, I dare say he'd hesitate--they are

such blockheads! And as for the business side, printing, paper, selling,

you trust to me, I know my way about. We'll begin in a small way and go

on to a large. In any case it will get us our living and we shall get

back our capital."

Dounia's eyes shone.

"I like what you are saying, Dmitri Prokofitch!" she said.

"I know nothing about it, of course," put in Pulcheria Alexandrovna,

"it may be a good idea, but again God knows. It's new and untried. Of

course, we must remain here at least for a time." She looked at Rodya.

"What do you think, brother?" said Dounia.

"I think he's got a very good idea," he answered. "Of course, it's too

soon to dream of a publishing firm, but we certainly might bring out

five or six books and be sure of success. I know of one book myself

which would be sure to go well. And as for his being able to manage it,

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