CUSTOMS AND TRADITIONS OF GREAT BRITAIN 40 page

angrily.

Svidrigailov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip, paid his bill,

and began getting up.

"I say, but I am drunk, _assez cause_," he said. "It's been a pleasure."

"I should rather think it must be a pleasure!" cried Raskolnikov,

getting up. "No doubt it is a pleasure for a worn-out profligate to

describe such adventures with a monstrous project of the same sort in

his mind--especially under such circumstances and to such a man as

me.... It's stimulating!"

"Well, if you come to that," Svidrigailov answered, scrutinising

Raskolnikov with some surprise, "if you come to that, you are a thorough

cynic yourself. You've plenty to make you so, anyway. You can understand

a great deal... and you can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely

regret not having had more talk with you, but I shan't lose sight of

you.... Only wait a bit."

Svidrigailov walked out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov walked out after

him. Svidrigailov was not however very drunk, the wine had affected him

for a moment, but it was passing off every minute. He was preoccupied

with something of importance and was frowning. He was apparently excited

and uneasy in anticipation of something. His manner to Raskolnikov had

changed during the last few minutes, and he was ruder and more sneering

every moment. Raskolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy. He

became very suspicious of Svidrigailov and resolved to follow him.

They came out on to the pavement.

"You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the other way.

Only _adieu, mon plaisir_, may we meet again."

And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market.

CHAPTER V

Raskolnikov walked after him.

"What's this?" cried Svidrigailov turning round, "I thought I said..."

"It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now."

"What?"

Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though measuring their

strength.

"From all your half tipsy stories," Raskolnikov observed harshly, "I am

_positive_ that you have not given up your designs on my sister, but

are pursuing them more actively than ever. I have learnt that my sister

received a letter this morning. You have hardly been able to sit still

all this time.... You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that

means nothing. I should like to make certain myself."

Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he

wished to make certain.

"Upon my word! I'll call the police!"

"Call away!"

Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last Svidrigailov's

face changed. Having satisfied himself that Raskolnikov was not

frightened at his threat, he assumed a mirthful and friendly air.

"What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to your affair,

though I am devoured by curiosity. It's a fantastic affair. I've put it

off till another time, but you're enough to rouse the dead.... Well, let

us go, only I warn you beforehand I am only going home for a moment,

to get some money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to

spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going to follow me?"

"I'm coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya Semyonovna, to

say I'm sorry not to have been at the funeral."

"That's as you like, but Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. She has taken

the three children to an old lady of high rank, the patroness of some

orphan asylums, whom I used to know years ago. I charmed the old lady by

depositing a sum of money with her to provide for the three children of

Katerina Ivanovna and subscribing to the institution as well. I told her

too the story of Sofya Semyonovna in full detail, suppressing nothing.

It produced an indescribable effect on her. That's why Sofya Semyonovna

has been invited to call to-day at the X. Hotel where the lady is

staying for the time."

"No matter, I'll come all the same."

"As you like, it's nothing to me, but I won't come with you; here we are

at home. By the way, I am convinced that you regard me with suspicion

just because I have shown such delicacy and have not so far troubled

you with questions... you understand? It struck you as extraordinary; I

don't mind betting it's that. Well, it teaches one to show delicacy!"

"And to listen at doors!"

"Ah, that's it, is it?" laughed Svidrigailov. "Yes, I should have been

surprised if you had let that pass after all that has happened. Ha-ha!

Though I did understand something of the pranks you had been up to and

were telling Sofya Semyonovna about, what was the meaning of it? Perhaps

I am quite behind the times and can't understand. For goodness' sake,

explain it, my dear boy. Expound the latest theories!"

"You couldn't have heard anything. You're making it all up!"

"But I'm not talking about that (though I did hear something). No, I'm

talking of the way you keep sighing and groaning now. The Schiller in

you is in revolt every moment, and now you tell me not to listen at

doors. If that's how you feel, go and inform the police that you had

this mischance: you made a little mistake in your theory. But if you are

convinced that one mustn't listen at doors, but one may murder old women

at one's pleasure, you'd better be off to America and make haste. Run,

young man! There may still be time. I'm speaking sincerely. Haven't you

the money? I'll give you the fare."

"I'm not thinking of that at all," Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust.

"I understand (but don't put yourself out, don't discuss it if you don't

want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over--moral ones,

aren't they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are

nothing to you now, ha-ha! You'll say you are still a man and a citizen.

If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It's no use taking up a

job you are not fit for. Well, you'd better shoot yourself, or don't you

want to?"

"You seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you."

"What a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the staircase. You

see, that's the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home.

Don't you believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here

is Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She is rather deaf. Has she

gone out? Where? Did you hear? She is not in and won't be till late in

the evening probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to come and see

me, didn't you? Here we are. Madame Resslich's not at home. She is a

woman who is always busy, an excellent woman I assure you.... She might

have been of use to you if you had been a little more sensible. Now,

see! I take this five-per-cent bond out of the bureau--see what a lot

I've got of them still--this one will be turned into cash to-day. I

mustn't waste any more time. The bureau is locked, the flat is locked,

and here we are again on the stairs. Shall we take a cab? I'm going to

the Islands. Would you like a lift? I'll take this carriage. Ah, you

refuse? You are tired of it! Come for a drive! I believe it will come on

to rain. Never mind, we'll put down the hood...."

Svidrigailov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov decided that his

suspicions were at least for that moment unjust. Without answering a

word he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market. If he had only

turned round on his way he might have seen Svidrigailov get out not a

hundred paces off, dismiss the cab and walk along the pavement. But he

had turned the corner and could see nothing. Intense disgust drew him

away from Svidrigailov.

"To think that I could for one instant have looked for help from that

coarse brute, that depraved sensualist and blackguard!" he cried.

Raskolnikov's judgment was uttered too lightly and hastily: there was

something about Svidrigailov which gave him a certain original, even a

mysterious character. As concerned his sister, Raskolnikov was convinced

that Svidrigailov would not leave her in peace. But it was too tiresome

and unbearable to go on thinking and thinking about this.

When he was alone, he had not gone twenty paces before he sank, as

usual, into deep thought. On the bridge he stood by the railing and

began gazing at the water. And his sister was standing close by him.

He met her at the entrance to the bridge, but passed by without seeing

her. Dounia had never met him like this in the street before and was

struck with dismay. She stood still and did not know whether to call

to him or not. Suddenly she saw Svidrigailov coming quickly from the

direction of the Hay Market.

He seemed to be approaching cautiously. He did not go on to the

bridge, but stood aside on the pavement, doing all he could to avoid

Raskolnikov's seeing him. He had observed Dounia for some time and had

been making signs to her. She fancied he was signalling to beg her not

to speak to her brother, but to come to him.

That was what Dounia did. She stole by her brother and went up to

Svidrigailov.

"Let us make haste away," Svidrigailov whispered to her, "I don't want

Rodion Romanovitch to know of our meeting. I must tell you I've been

sitting with him in the restaurant close by, where he looked me up and

I had great difficulty in getting rid of him. He has somehow heard of

my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn't you who told him, of

course, but if not you, who then?"

"Well, we've turned the corner now," Dounia interrupted, "and my brother

won't see us. I have to tell you that I am going no further with you.

Speak to me here. You can tell it all in the street."

"In the first place, I can't say it in the street; secondly, you must

hear Sofya Semyonovna too; and, thirdly, I will show you some papers....

Oh well, if you won't agree to come with me, I shall refuse to give

any explanation and go away at once. But I beg you not to forget that

a very curious secret of your beloved brother's is entirely in my

keeping."

Dounia stood still, hesitating, and looked at Svidrigailov with

searching eyes.

"What are you afraid of?" he observed quietly. "The town is not the

country. And even in the country you did me more harm than I did you."

"Have you prepared Sofya Semyonovna?"

"No, I have not said a word to her and am not quite certain whether she

is at home now. But most likely she is. She has buried her stepmother

to-day: she is not likely to go visiting on such a day. For the time I

don't want to speak to anyone about it and I half regret having spoken

to you. The slightest indiscretion is as bad as betrayal in a thing like

this. I live there in that house, we are coming to it. That's the porter

of our house--he knows me very well; you see, he's bowing; he sees I'm

coming with a lady and no doubt he has noticed your face already and you

will be glad of that if you are afraid of me and suspicious. Excuse

my putting things so coarsely. I haven't a flat to myself; Sofya

Semyonovna's room is next to mine--she lodges in the next flat. The

whole floor is let out in lodgings. Why are you frightened like a child?

Am I really so terrible?"

Svidrigailov's lips were twisted in a condescending smile; but he was in

no smiling mood. His heart was throbbing and he could scarcely breathe.

He spoke rather loud to cover his growing excitement. But Dounia did not

notice this peculiar excitement, she was so irritated by his remark that

she was frightened of him like a child and that he was so terrible to

her.

"Though I know that you are not a man... of honour, I am not in the

least afraid of you. Lead the way," she said with apparent composure,

but her face was very pale.

Svidrigailov stopped at Sonia's room.

"Allow me to inquire whether she is at home.... She is not. How

unfortunate! But I know she may come quite soon. If she's gone out, it

can only be to see a lady about the orphans. Their mother is dead....

I've been meddling and making arrangements for them. If Sofya Semyonovna

does not come back in ten minutes, I will send her to you, to-day if

you like. This is my flat. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich,

my landlady, has the next room. Now, look this way. I will show you

my chief piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two

perfectly empty rooms, which are to let. Here they are... You must look

into them with some attention."

Svidrigailov occupied two fairly large furnished rooms. Dounia was

looking about her mistrustfully, but saw nothing special in the

furniture or position of the rooms. Yet there was something to observe,

for instance, that Svidrigailov's flat was exactly between two sets of

almost uninhabited apartments. His rooms were not entered directly

from the passage, but through the landlady's two almost empty rooms.

Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svidrigailov showed Dounia

the two empty rooms that were to let. Dounia stopped in the doorway, not

knowing what she was called to look upon, but Svidrigailov hastened to

explain.

"Look here, at this second large room. Notice that door, it's locked.

By the door stands a chair, the only one in the two rooms. I brought it

from my rooms so as to listen more conveniently. Just the other side of

the door is Sofya Semyonovna's table; she sat there talking to Rodion

Romanovitch. And I sat here listening on two successive evenings, for

two hours each time--and of course I was able to learn something, what

do you think?"

"You listened?"

"Yes, I did. Now come back to my room; we can't sit down here."

He brought Avdotya Romanovna back into his sitting-room and offered her

a chair. He sat down at the opposite side of the table, at least seven

feet from her, but probably there was the same glow in his eyes which

had once frightened Dounia so much. She shuddered and once more looked

about her distrustfully. It was an involuntary gesture; she evidently

did not wish to betray her uneasiness. But the secluded position of

Svidrigailov's lodging had suddenly struck her. She wanted to ask

whether his landlady at least were at home, but pride kept her from

asking. Moreover, she had another trouble in her heart incomparably

greater than fear for herself. She was in great distress.

"Here is your letter," she said, laying it on the table. "Can it be true

what you write? You hint at a crime committed, you say, by my brother.

You hint at it too clearly; you daren't deny it now. I must tell you

that I'd heard of this stupid story before you wrote and don't believe a

word of it. It's a disgusting and ridiculous suspicion. I know the story

and why and how it was invented. You can have no proofs. You promised to

prove it. Speak! But let me warn you that I don't believe you! I don't

believe you!"

Dounia said this, speaking hurriedly, and for an instant the colour

rushed to her face.

"If you didn't believe it, how could you risk coming alone to my rooms?

Why have you come? Simply from curiosity?"

"Don't torment me. Speak, speak!"

"There's no denying that you are a brave girl. Upon my word, I thought

you would have asked Mr. Razumihin to escort you here. But he was not

with you nor anywhere near. I was on the look-out. It's spirited of

you, it proves you wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything

is divine in you.... About your brother, what am I to say to you? You've

just seen him yourself. What did you think of him?"

"Surely that's not the only thing you are building on?"

"No, not on that, but on his own words. He came here on two successive

evenings to see Sofya Semyonovna. I've shown you where they sat. He made

a full confession to her. He is a murderer. He killed an old woman, a

pawnbroker, with whom he had pawned things himself. He killed her sister

too, a pedlar woman called Lizaveta, who happened to come in while he

was murdering her sister. He killed them with an axe he brought with

him. He murdered them to rob them and he did rob them. He took money and

various things.... He told all this, word for word, to Sofya Semyonovna,

the only person who knows his secret. But she has had no share by word

or deed in the murder; she was as horrified at it as you are now. Don't

be anxious, she won't betray him."

"It cannot be," muttered Dounia, with white lips. She gasped for breath.

"It cannot be. There was not the slightest cause, no sort of ground....

It's a lie, a lie!"

"He robbed her, that was the cause, he took money and things. It's true

that by his own admission he made no use of the money or things, but hid

them under a stone, where they are now. But that was because he dared

not make use of them."

"But how could he steal, rob? How could he dream of it?" cried Dounia,

and she jumped up from the chair. "Why, you know him, and you've seen

him, can he be a thief?"

She seemed to be imploring Svidrigailov; she had entirely forgotten her

fear.

"There are thousands and millions of combinations and possibilities,

Avdotya Romanovna. A thief steals and knows he is a scoundrel, but I've

heard of a gentleman who broke open the mail. Who knows, very likely he

thought he was doing a gentlemanly thing! Of course I should not have

believed it myself if I'd been told of it as you have, but I believe my

own ears. He explained all the causes of it to Sofya Semyonovna too, but

she did not believe her ears at first, yet she believed her own eyes at

last."

"What... were the causes?"

"It's a long story, Avdotya Romanovna. Here's... how shall I tell

you?--A theory of a sort, the same one by which I for instance consider

that a single misdeed is permissible if the principal aim is right, a

solitary wrongdoing and hundreds of good deeds! It's galling too, of

course, for a young man of gifts and overweening pride to know that if

he had, for instance, a paltry three thousand, his whole career, his

whole future would be differently shaped and yet not to have that three

thousand. Add to that, nervous irritability from hunger, from lodging

in a hole, from rags, from a vivid sense of the charm of his social

position and his sister's and mother's position too. Above all, vanity,

pride and vanity, though goodness knows he may have good qualities

too.... I am not blaming him, please don't think it; besides, it's not

my business. A special little theory came in too--a theory of a

sort--dividing mankind, you see, into material and superior persons,

that is persons to whom the law does not apply owing to their

superiority, who make laws for the rest of mankind, the material, that

is. It's all right as a theory, _une theorie comme une autre_. Napoleon

attracted him tremendously, that is, what affected him was that a

great many men of genius have not hesitated at wrongdoing, but have

overstepped the law without thinking about it. He seems to have fancied

that he was a genius too--that is, he was convinced of it for a time. He

has suffered a great deal and is still suffering from the idea that he

could make a theory, but was incapable of boldly overstepping the law,

and so he is not a man of genius. And that's humiliating for a young man

of any pride, in our day especially...."

"But remorse? You deny him any moral feeling then? Is he like that?"

"Ah, Avdotya Romanovna, everything is in a muddle now; not that it was

ever in very good order. Russians in general are broad in their ideas,

Avdotya Romanovna, broad like their land and exceedingly disposed to

the fantastic, the chaotic. But it's a misfortune to be broad without

a special genius. Do you remember what a lot of talk we had together on

this subject, sitting in the evenings on the terrace after supper? Why,

you used to reproach me with breadth! Who knows, perhaps we were talking

at the very time when he was lying here thinking over his plan. There

are no sacred traditions amongst us, especially in the educated class,

Avdotya Romanovna. At the best someone will make them up somehow for

himself out of books or from some old chronicle. But those are for the

most part the learned and all old fogeys, so that it would be almost

ill-bred in a man of society. You know my opinions in general, though. I

never blame anyone. I do nothing at all, I persevere in that. But

we've talked of this more than once before. I was so happy indeed as to

interest you in my opinions.... You are very pale, Avdotya Romanovna."

"I know his theory. I read that article of his about men to whom all is

permitted. Razumihin brought it to me."

"Mr. Razumihin? Your brother's article? In a magazine? Is there such an

article? I didn't know. It must be interesting. But where are you going,

Avdotya Romanovna?"

"I want to see Sofya Semyonovna," Dounia articulated faintly. "How do I

go to her? She has come in, perhaps. I must see her at once. Perhaps

she..."

Avdotya Romanovna could not finish. Her breath literally failed her.

"Sofya Semyonovna will not be back till night, at least I believe not.

She was to have been back at once, but if not, then she will not be in

till quite late."

"Ah, then you are lying! I see... you were lying... lying all the

time.... I don't believe you! I don't believe you!" cried Dounia,

completely losing her head.

Almost fainting, she sank on to a chair which Svidrigailov made haste to

give her.

"Avdotya Romanovna, what is it? Control yourself! Here is some water.

Drink a little...."

He sprinkled some water over her. Dounia shuddered and came to herself.

"It has acted violently," Svidrigailov muttered to himself, frowning.

"Avdotya Romanovna, calm yourself! Believe me, he has friends. We will

save him. Would you like me to take him abroad? I have money, I can get

a ticket in three days. And as for the murder, he will do all sorts of

good deeds yet, to atone for it. Calm yourself. He may become a great

man yet. Well, how are you? How do you feel?"

"Cruel man! To be able to jeer at it! Let me go..."

"Where are you going?"

"To him. Where is he? Do you know? Why is this door locked? We came in

at that door and now it is locked. When did you manage to lock it?"

"We couldn't be shouting all over the flat on such a subject. I am far

from jeering; it's simply that I'm sick of talking like this. But how

can you go in such a state? Do you want to betray him? You will drive

him to fury, and he will give himself up. Let me tell you, he is already

being watched; they are already on his track. You will simply be giving

him away. Wait a little: I saw him and was talking to him just now. He

can still be saved. Wait a bit, sit down; let us think it over together.

I asked you to come in order to discuss it alone with you and to

consider it thoroughly. But do sit down!"

"How can you save him? Can he really be saved?"

Dounia sat down. Svidrigailov sat down beside her.

"It all depends on you, on you, on you alone," he began with glowing

eyes, almost in a whisper and hardly able to utter the words for

emotion.

Dounia drew back from him in alarm. He too was trembling all over.

"You... one word from you, and he is saved. I... I'll save him. I have

money and friends. I'll send him away at once. I'll get a passport,

two passports, one for him and one for me. I have friends... capable

people.... If you like, I'll take a passport for you... for your

mother.... What do you want with Razumihin? I love you too.... I love

you beyond everything.... Let me kiss the hem of your dress, let me, let

me.... The very rustle of it is too much for me. Tell me, 'do that,'

and I'll do it. I'll do everything. I will do the impossible. What you

believe, I will believe. I'll do anything--anything! Don't, don't look

at me like that. Do you know that you are killing me?..."

He was almost beginning to rave.... Something seemed suddenly to go to

his head. Dounia jumped up and rushed to the door.

"Open it! Open it!" she called, shaking the door. "Open it! Is there no

one there?"

Svidrigailov got up and came to himself. His still trembling lips slowly

broke into an angry mocking smile.

"There is no one at home," he said quietly and emphatically. "The

landlady has gone out, and it's waste of time to shout like that. You

are only exciting yourself uselessly."

"Where is the key? Open the door at once, at once, base man!"

"I have lost the key and cannot find it."

"This is an outrage," cried Dounia, turning pale as death. She rushed

to the furthest corner, where she made haste to barricade herself with a

little table.

She did not scream, but she fixed her eyes on her tormentor and watched

every movement he made.

Svidrigailov remained standing at the other end of the room facing her.

He was positively composed, at least in appearance, but his face was

pale as before. The mocking smile did not leave his face.

"You spoke of outrage just now, Avdotya Romanovna. In that case you

may be sure I've taken measures. Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. The

Kapernaumovs are far away--there are five locked rooms between. I am at

least twice as strong as you are and I have nothing to fear, besides.

Date: 2014-12-29; view: 795