"Can
this
be
still
a dream?" Raskolnikov
thought
once
more.
He
looked
carefully
and
suspiciously
at
the
unexpected visitor. "Svidrigaďlov!
What
nonsense!
It
can't be!"
he
said
at
last
aloud
in
bewilderment.
His
visitor
did
not
seem
at
all
surprised
at
this
exclamation. "I've
come
to
you
for
two
reasons.
In
the
first
place, I wanted
to
make
your
personal
acquaintance,
as
I
have
already
heard
a
great
deal
about
you
that
is
interesting
and
flattering; secondly, I
cherish
the
hope
that
you
may
not
refuse
to
assist
me
in
a
matter
directly concerning
the
welfare
of
your
sister, Avdotya Romanovna.
For
without
your
support
she
might
not
let
me
come
near
her
now,
for
she
is
prejudiced against me,
but
with
your
assistance
I
reckon
on..." "You
reckon
wrongly," interrupted Raskolnikov. "They
only
arrived
yesterday,
may
I
ask
you?" Raskolnikov
made
no
reply. "It
was
yesterday, I know. I
only
arrived
myself
the
day
before. Well,
let
me
tell
you
this, Rodion Romanovitch, I don't
consider
it
necessary
to
justify
myself,
but
kindly
tell
me
what
was
there
particularly criminal
on
my
part
in
all
this
business,
speaking
without
prejudice,
with
common
sense?" Raskolnikov
continued
to
look
at
him
in
silence. "But that's
not
the
point," Raskolnikov interrupted
with
disgust. "It's simply
that
whether
you
are
right
or
wrong,
we
dislike
you.
We
don't
want
to
have
anything
to
do
with
you.
We
show
you
the
door.
Go
out!" Svidrigaďlov
broke
into
a
sudden
laugh. "But you're...
but
there's
no
getting
round you,"
he
said, laughing
in
the
frankest
way. "I
hoped
to
get
round you,
but
you
took
up
the
right
line
at
once!" "But
you
are
trying
to
get
round
me
still!" "You
have
got
rid
of
Marfa Petrovna, too,
so
they
say?" Raskolnikov interrupted rudely. "Oh, you've
heard
that, too, then? You'd
be
sure
to, though....
But
as
for
your
question, I really don't
know
what
to
say,
though
my
own
conscience
is
quite
at
rest
on
that
score. Don't
suppose
that
I
am
in
any
apprehension
about
it.
All
was
regular
and
in
order;
the
medical
inquiry
diagnosed
apoplexy
due
to
bathing immediately
after
a heavy
dinner
and
a bottle
of
wine,
and
indeed
it
could
have
proved
nothing
else.
But
I'll
tell
you
what
I
have
been
thinking
to
myself
of
late,
on
my
way
here
in
the
train, especially: didn't I
contribute
to
all
that... calamity, morally,
in
a way,
by
irritation
or
something
of
the
sort.
But
I came
to
the
conclusion
that
that, too,
was
quite
out
of
the
question." Raskolnikov laughed. "I
wonder
you
trouble
yourself
about
it!" "But
what
are
you
laughing at?
Only
consider, I struck
her
just
twice
with
a switch—there
were
no
marks
even... don't
regard
me
as
a cynic, please; I
am
perfectly
aware
how
atrocious
it
was
of
me
and
all
that;
but
I
know
for
certain, too,
that
Marfa Petrovna
was
very
likely
pleased
at
my,
so
to
say, warmth.
The
story
of
your
sister
had been wrung
out
to
the
last
drop;
for
the
last
three
days
Marfa Petrovna had been forced
to
sit
at
home;
she
had
nothing
to
show
herself
with
in
the
town. Besides,
she
had bored
them
so
with
that
letter
(you
heard
about
her
reading
the
letter).
And
all
of
a
sudden
those
two
switches
fell
from
heaven!
Her
first
act
was
to
order
the
carriage
to
be
got out....
Not
to
speak
of
the
fact
that
there
are
cases
when
women
are
very,
very
glad
to
be
insulted
in
spite
of
all
their
show
of
indignation.
There
are
instances
of
it
with
everyone;
human
beings
in
general, indeed,
greatly
love
to
be
insulted,
have
you
noticed that?
But
it's particularly
so
with
women.
One
might
even
say
it's
their
only
amusement."
At
one
time Raskolnikov
thought
of
getting
up
and
walking
out
and
so
finishing
the
interview.
But
some
curiosity
and
even
a
sort
of
prudence
made
him
linger
for
a moment. "You
are
fond
of
fighting?"
he
asked
carelessly.
After
saying
this, Svidrigaďlov
broke
into
a
sudden
laugh again. Raskolnikov
saw
clearly
that
this
was
a
man
with
a
firm
purpose
in
his
mind
and
able
to
keep
it
to
himself. "I
expect
you've
not
talked
to
anyone
for
some
days?"
he
asked. "Scarcely anyone. I
suppose
you
are
wondering
at
my being
such
an
adaptable man?" "No, I
am
only
wondering
at
your
being
too
adaptable a man." "Because I
am
not
offended
at
the
rudeness
of
your
questions?
Is
that
it?
But
why
take
offence?
As
you
asked,
so
I answered,"
he
replied,
with
a surprising
expression
of
simplicity. "You know, there's
hardly
anything
I
take
interest
in,"
he
went on,
as
it
were
dreamily, "especially now, I've
nothing
to
do....
You
are
quite
at
liberty
to
imagine
though
that
I
am
making
up
to
you
with
a motive, particularly
as
I
told
you
I
want
to
see
your
sister
about
something.
But
I'll
confess
frankly, I
am
very
much
bored.
The
last
three
days
especially,
so
I
am
delighted
to
see
you.... Don't
be
angry, Rodion Romanovitch,
but
you
seem
to
be
somehow awfully
strange
yourself.
Say
what
you
like, there's
something
wrong
with
you,
and
now, too...
not
this
very
minute, I mean,
but
now, generally.... Well, well, I won't, I won't, don't scowl! I
am
not
such
a bear,
you
know,
as
you
think." Raskolnikov
looked
gloomily
at
him. "You
are
not
a bear, perhaps,
at
all,"
he
said. "I fancy
indeed
that
you
are
a
man
of
very
good
breeding,
or
at
least
know
how
on
occasion
to
behave
like
one." "I
am
not
particularly interested
in
anyone's opinion," Svidrigaďlov answered,
dryly
and
even
with
a shade
of
haughtiness, "and
therefore
why
not
be
vulgar
at
times
when
vulgarity
is
such
a
convenient
cloak
for
our
climate...
and
especially
if
one
has a
natural
propensity
that
way,"
he
added, laughing again. "But I've
heard
you
have
many
friends
here.
You
are,
as
they
say, 'not
without
connections.'
What
can
you
want
with
me, then, unless you've
some
special
object?" "That's true
that
I
have
friends
here," Svidrigaďlov admitted,
not
replying
to
the
chief
point. "I've met
some
already. I've been lounging
about
for
the
last
three
days,
and
I've
seen
them,
or
they've
seen
me. That's a
matter
of
course. I
am
well
dressed
and
reckoned
not
a
poor
man;
the
emancipation
of
the
serfs
hasn't affected me; my
property
consists
chiefly
of
forests
and
water
meadows.
The
revenue
has
not
fallen off; but... I
am
not
going
to
see
them, I
was
sick
of
them
long
ago. I've been
here
three
days
and
have
called
on
no
one....
What
a
town
it
is!
How
has
it
come
into
existence
among
us,
tell
me
that? A
town
of
officials
and
students
of
all
sorts. Yes, there's a
great
deal
I didn't notice
when
I
was
here
eight
years
ago,
kicking
up
my heels.... My
only
hope
now
is
in
anatomy,
by
Jove,
it
is!" "Anatomy?" "But
as
for
these
clubs, Dussauts, parades,
or
progress, indeed, maybe—well,
all
that
can
go
on
without
me,"
he
went on,
again
without
noticing
the
question. "Besides,
who
wants
to
be
a card-sharper?" "Why,
have
you
been a card-sharper then?" "How
could
I
help
being?
There
was
a regular
set
of
us, men
of
the
best
society,
eight
years
ago;
we
had a
fine
time.
And
all
men
of
breeding,
you
know, poets, men
of
property.
And
indeed
as
a
rule
in
our
Russian
society
the
best
manners
are
found
among
those
who've been thrashed,
have
you
noticed that? I've
deteriorated
in
the
country.
But
I
did
get
into
prison
for
debt,
through
a
low
Greek
who
came
from
Nezhin.
Then
Marfa Petrovna
turned
up;
she
bargained
with
him
and
bought
me
off
for
thirty
thousand
silver
pieces
(I
owed
seventy
thousand).
We
were
united
in
lawful
wedlock
and
she
bore
me
off
into
the
country
like
a treasure.
You
know
she
was
five
years
older
than
I.
She
was
very
fond
of
me.
For
seven
years
I
never
left
the
country. And,
take
note,
that
all
my
life
she
held
a document
over
me,
the
IOU
for
thirty
thousand
roubles,
so
if
I
were
to
elect
to
be
restive
about
anything
I
should
be
trapped
at
once!
And
she
would
have
done
it! Women find
nothing
incompatible
in
that." "If
it
hadn't been
for
that,
would
you
have
given
her
the
slip?" "Why,
would
you
go
up?" "I... No, oh, no,"
muttered
Svidrigaďlov really seeming
to
be
deep
in
thought. "What
does
he
mean?
Is
he
in
earnest?" Raskolnikov wondered. "No,
the
document didn't
restrain
me," Svidrigaďlov went on, meditatively. "It
was
my
own
doing,
not
leaving
the
country,
and
nearly a
year
ago
Marfa Petrovna gave
me
back
the
document
on
my name-day
and
made
me
a
present
of
a
considerable
sum
of
money, too.
She
had a fortune,
you
know. 'You
see
how
I
trust
you, Arkady Ivanovitch'—that
was
actually
her
expression.
You
don't
believe
she
used it?
But
do
you
know
I
managed
the
estate
quite
decently,
they
know
me
in
the
neighbourhood. I ordered books, too. Marfa Petrovna
at
first
approved,
but
afterwards
she
was
afraid
of
my over-studying." "You
seem
to
be
missing Marfa Petrovna
very
much?" "Missing her? Perhaps. Really,
perhaps
I am. And,
by
the
way,
do
you
believe
in
ghosts?" "What ghosts?" "Why,
ordinary
ghosts." "Do
you
believe
in
them?" "Do
you
see
them, then?" Svidrigaďlov
looked
at
him
rather
oddly. "Marfa Petrovna
is
pleased
to
visit
me,"
he
said, twisting
his
mouth
into
a
strange
smile. "How
do
you
mean
'she
is
pleased
to
visit
you'?" "She has been
three
times. I
saw
her
first
on
the
very
day
of
the
funeral,
an
hour
after
she
was
buried.
It
was
the
day
before
I left
to
come
here.
The
second
time
was
the
day
before
yesterday,
at
daybreak,
on
the
journey
at
the
station
of
Malaya Vishera,
and
the
third
time
was
two
hours
ago
in
the
room
where
I
am
staying. I
was
alone." "Were
you
awake?" "Quite awake. I
was
wide
awake
every
time.
She
comes,
speaks
to
me
for
a
minute
and
goes
out
at
the
door—always
at
the
door. I
can
almost
hear
her." "What
made
me
think
that
something
of
the
sort
must
be
happening
to
you?" Raskolnikov said suddenly.
At
the
same
moment
he
was
surprised
at
having
said it.
He
was
much
excited. "What!
Did
you
think
so?" Svidrigaďlov
asked
in
astonishment. "Did
you
really? Didn't I
say
that
there
was
something
in
common
between
us, eh?" "You
never
said so!" Raskolnikov cried
sharply
and
with
heat. "Didn't I?" "No!" "I
thought
I did.
When
I came
in
and
saw
you
lying
with
your
eyes
shut, pretending, I said
to
myself
at
once, 'Here's
the
man.'" "What
do
you
mean
by
'the man?'
What
are
you
talking about?" cried Raskolnikov. "What
do
I mean? I really don't know...." Svidrigaďlov
muttered
ingenuously,
as
though
he, too,
were
puzzled.
For
a
minute
they
were
silent.
They
stared
in
each
other's faces. "That's
all
nonsense!" Raskolnikov shouted
with
vexation. "What
does
she
say
when
she
comes
to
you?" "She!
Would
you
believe
it,
she
talks
of
the
silliest trifles and—man
is
a
strange
creature—it
makes
me
angry.
The
first
time
she
came
in
(I
was
tired
you
know:
the
funeral service,
the
funeral ceremony,
the
lunch
afterwards.
At
last
I
was
left
alone
in
my study. I
lighted
a
cigar
and
began
to
think),
she
came
in
at
the
door. 'You've been
so
busy
to-day, Arkady Ivanovitch,
you
have
forgotten
to
wind
the
dining-room clock,'
she
said.
All
those
seven
years
I've
wound
that
clock
every
week,
and
if
I forgot
it
she
would
always
remind me.
The
next
day
I
set
off
on
my
way
here. I got
out
at
the
station
at
daybreak; I'd been asleep, tired out,
with
my
eyes
half
open, I
was
drinking
some
coffee. I
looked
up
and
there
was
suddenly Marfa Petrovna sitting
beside
me
with
a
pack
of
cards
in
her
hands. 'Shall I
tell
your
fortune
for
the
journey, Arkady Ivanovitch?'
She
was
a
great
hand
at
telling fortunes. I
shall
never
forgive
myself
for
not
asking
her
to. I
ran
away
in
a fright, and, besides,
the
bell rang. I
was
sitting to-day, feeling
very
heavy
after
a
miserable
dinner
from
a cookshop; I
was
sitting smoking,
all
of
a
sudden
Marfa Petrovna again.
She
came
in
very
smart
in
a
new
green
silk
dress
with
a
long
train. 'Good day, Arkady Ivanovitch!
How
do
you
like
my dress? Aniska can't
make
like
this.' (Aniska
was
a dressmaker
in
the
country,
one
of
our
former
serf
girls
who
had been
trained
in
Moscow, a pretty wench.)
She
stood
turning
round
before
me. I
looked
at
the
dress,
and
then
I
looked
carefully,
very
carefully,
at
her
face. 'I
wonder
you
trouble
to
come
to
me
about
such
trifles, Marfa Petrovna.' 'Good gracious,
you
won't
let
one
disturb
you
about
anything!'
To
tease
her
I said, 'I
want
to
get
married, Marfa Petrovna.' 'That's
just
like
you, Arkady Ivanovitch;
it
does
you
very
little
credit
to
come
looking
for
a
bride
when
you've
hardly
buried
your
wife.
And
if
you
could
make
a
good
choice,
at
least,
but
I
know
it
won't
be
for
your
happiness
or
hers,
you
will
only
be
a laughing-stock
to
all
good
people.'
Then
she
went
out
and
her
train
seemed
to
rustle. Isn't
it
nonsense, eh?" "But
perhaps
you
are
telling lies?" Raskolnikov
put
in. "I rarely lie,"
answered
Svidrigaďlov thoughtfully, apparently
not
noticing
the
rudeness
of
the
question. "And
in
the
past,
have
you
ever
seen
ghosts
before?" "Y-yes, I
have
seen
them,
but
only
once
in
my life,
six
years
ago. I had a serf, Filka;
just
after
his
burial
I
called
out
forgetting
'Filka, my pipe!'
He
came
in
and
went
to
the
cupboard
where
my pipes were. I sat
still
and
thought
'he
is
doing
it
out
of
revenge,'
because
we
had a
violent
quarrel
just
before
his
death. 'How
dare
you
come
in
with
a
hole
in
your
elbow?' I said. 'Go away,
you
scamp!'
He
turned
and
went out,
and
never
came again. I didn't
tell
Marfa Petrovna
at
the
time. I wanted
to
have
a
service
sung
for
him,
but
I
was
ashamed." "You
should
go
to
a doctor." "I
know
I
am
not
well,
without
your
telling me,
though
I don't
know
what's wrong; I
believe
I
am
five
times
as
strong
as
you
are. I didn't
ask
you
whether
you
believe
that
ghosts
are
seen,
but
whether
you
believe
that
they
exist." "No, I won't
believe
it!" Raskolnikov cried,
with
positive anger. "What
do
people
generally say?"
muttered
Svidrigaďlov,
as
though
speaking
to
himself,
looking
aside
and
bowing
his
head. "They say, 'You
are
ill,
so
what
appears
to
you
is
only
unreal fantasy.'
But
that's
not
strictly logical. I
agree
that
ghosts
only
appear
to
the
sick,
but
that
only
proves
that
they
are
unable
to
appear
except
to
the
sick,
not
that
they
don't exist." "Nothing
of
the
sort," Raskolnikov
insisted
irritably. "No?
You
don't
think
so?" Svidrigaďlov went on,
looking
at
him
deliberately. "But
what
do
you
say
to
this
argument
(help
me
with
it):
ghosts
are,
as
it
were,
shreds
and
fragments
of
other
worlds,
the
beginning
of
them. A
man
in
health
has,
of
course,
no
reason
to
see
them,
because
he
is
above
all
a
man
of
this
earth
and
is
bound
for
the
sake
of
completeness
and
order
to
live
only
in
this
life.
But
as
soon
as
one
is
ill,
as
soon
as
the
normal
earthly
order
of
the
organism
is
broken,
one
begins
to
realise
the
possibility
of
another
world;
and
the
more
seriously
ill
one
is,
the
closer
becomes
one's
contact
with
that
other
world,
so
that
as
soon
as
the
man
dies
he
steps
straight
into
that
world. I
thought
of
that
long
ago.
If
you
believe
in
a
future
life,
you
could
believe
in
that, too." "I don't
believe
in
a
future
life," said Raskolnikov. Svidrigaďlov sat lost
in
thought. "And
what
if
there
are
only
spiders
there,
or
something
of
that
sort,"
he
said suddenly. "He
is
a madman,"
thought
Raskolnikov. "We
always
imagine
eternity
as
something
beyond
our
conception,
something
vast, vast!
But
why
must
it
be
vast?
Instead
of
all
that,
what
if
it's
one
little
room,
like
a
bath
house
in
the
country,
black
and
grimy
and
spiders
in
every
corner,
and
that's
all
eternity
is? I sometimes fancy
it
like
that." "Can
it
be
you
can
imagine
nothing
juster
and
more
comforting
than
that?" Raskolnikov cried,
with
a feeling
of
anguish. "Juster?
And
how
can
we
tell,
perhaps
that
is
just,
and
do
you
know
it's
what
I
would
certainly
have
made
it,"
answered
Svidrigaďlov,
with
a
vague
smile.
This
horrible
answer
sent a cold chill
through
Raskolnikov. Svidrigaďlov
raised
his
head,
looked
at
him,
and
suddenly began laughing. "Only think,"
he
cried, "half
an
hour
ago
we
had
never
seen
each
other,
we
regarded
each
other
as
enemies;
there
is
a
matter
unsettled
between
us; we've thrown
it
aside,
and
away
we've gone
into
the
abstract! Wasn't I
right
in
saying
that
we
were
birds
of
a feather?" "Kindly
allow
me," Raskolnikov went
on
irritably, "to
ask
you
to
explain
why
you
have
honoured
me
with
your
visit... and...
and
I
am
in
a hurry, I
have
no
time
to
waste. I
want
to
go
out." "By
all
means,
by
all
means.
Your
sister, Avdotya Romanovna,
is
going
to
be
married
to
Mr. Luzhin, Pyotr Petrovitch?" "Can
you
refrain
from
any
question
about
my
sister
and
from
mentioning
her
name? I can't
understand
how
you
dare
utter
her
name
in
my presence,
if
you
really
are
Svidrigaďlov." "Why,
but
I've
come
here
to
speak
about
her;
how
can
I
avoid
mentioning
her?" "Very good, speak,
but
make
haste." "I
am
sure
that
you
must
have
formed
your
own
opinion
of
this
Mr. Luzhin,
who
is
a
connection
of
mine
through
my wife,
if
you
have
only
seen
him
for
half
an
hour,
or
heard
any
facts
about
him.
He
is
no
match
for
Avdotya Romanovna. I
believe
Avdotya Romanovna
is
sacrificing
herself
generously
and
imprudently
for
the
sake of...
for
the
sake
of
her
family. I fancied
from
all
I had
heard
of
you
that
you
would
be
very
glad
if
the
match
could
be
broken
off
without
the
sacrifice
of
worldly
advantages.
Now
I
know
you
personally, I
am
convinced
of
it." "All
this
is
very
naďve...
excuse
me, I
should
have
said
impudent
on
your
part," said Raskolnikov. "You
mean
to
say
that
I
am
seeking
my
own
ends. Don't
be
uneasy, Rodion Romanovitch,
if
I
were
working
for
my
own
advantage, I
would
not
have
spoken
out
so
directly. I
am
not
quite
a fool. I
will
confess
something
psychologically
curious
about
that:
just
now,
defending
my
love
for
Avdotya Romanovna, I said I
was
myself
the
victim. Well,
let
me
tell
you
that
I've
no
feeling
of
love
now,
not
the
slightest,
so
that
I
wonder
myself
indeed,
for
I really
did
feel something..." "Through
idleness
and
depravity," Raskolnikov
put
in. "I certainly
am
idle
and
depraved,
but
your
sister
has
such
qualities
that
even
I
could
not
help
being impressed
by
them.
But
that's
all
nonsense,
as
I
see
myself
now." "Have
you
seen
that
long?" "I began
to
be
aware
of
it
before,
but
was
only
perfectly
sure
of
it
the
day
before
yesterday,
almost
at
the
moment
I
arrived
in
Petersburg. I
still
fancied
in
Moscow, though,
that
I
was
coming
to
try
to
get
Avdotya Romanovna's
hand
and
to
cut
out
Mr. Luzhin." "Excuse
me
for
interrupting you;
kindly
be
brief,
and
come
to
the
object
of
your
visit. I
am
in
a hurry, I
want
to
go
out..." "With
the
greatest pleasure.
On
arriving
here
and
determining
on
a certain... journey, I
should
like
to
make
some
necessary
preliminary
arrangements. I left my children
with
an
aunt;
they
are
well
provided for;
and
they
have
no
need
of
me
personally.
And
a
nice
father I
should
make, too! I
have
taken
nothing
but
what
Marfa Petrovna gave
me
a
year
ago. That's
enough
for
me.
Excuse
me, I
am
just
coming
to
the
point.
Before
the
journey
which
may
come
off, I
want
to
settle
Mr. Luzhin, too. It's
not
that
I
detest
him
so
much,
but
it
was
through
him
I
quarrelled
with
Marfa Petrovna
when
I learned
that
she
had dished
up
this
marriage. I
want
now
to
see
Avdotya Romanovna
through
your
mediation,
and
if
you
like
in
your
presence,
to
explain
to
her
that
in
the
first
place
she
will
never
gain
anything
but
harm
from
Mr. Luzhin. Then,
begging
her
pardon
for
all
past unpleasantness,
to
make
her
a
present
of
ten
thousand
roubles
and
so
assist
the
rupture
with
Mr. Luzhin, a rupture
to
which
I
believe
she
is
herself
not
disinclined,
if
she
could
see
the
way
to
it." "You
are
certainly mad," cried Raskolnikov
not
so
much
angered
as
astonished. "How
dare
you
talk
like
that!" "I
knew
you
would
scream
at
me;
but
in
the
first
place,
though
I
am
not
rich,
this
ten
thousand
roubles
is
perfectly free; I
have
absolutely
no
need
for
it.
If
Avdotya Romanovna
does
not
accept
it, I
shall
waste
it
in
some
more
foolish
way. That's
the
first
thing. Secondly, my
conscience
is
perfectly easy; I
make
the
offer
with
no
ulterior
motive.
You
may
not
believe
it,
but
in
the
end
Avdotya Romanovna
and
you
will
know.
The
point
is,
that
I
did
actually
cause
your
sister,
whom
I
greatly
respect,
some
trouble
and
unpleasantness,
and
so, sincerely
regretting
it, I want—not
to
compensate,
not
to
repay
her
for
the
unpleasantness,
but
simply
to
do
something
to
her
advantage,
to
show
that
I
am
not,
after
all, privileged
to
do
nothing
but
harm.
If
there
were
a millionth
fraction
of
self-interest
in
my offer, I
should
not
have
made
it
so
openly;
and
I
should
not
have
offered
her
ten
thousand
only,
when
five
weeks
ago
I
offered
her
more, Besides, I may, perhaps,
very
soon
marry
a
young
lady,
and
that
alone
ought
to
prevent
suspicion
of
any
design
on
Avdotya Romanovna.
In
conclusion,
let
me
say
that
in
marrying
Mr. Luzhin,
she
is
taking
money
just
the
same,
only
from
another
man. Don't
be
angry, Rodion Romanovitch,
think
it
over
coolly
and
quietly." Svidrigaďlov
himself
was
exceedingly cool
and
quiet
as
he
was
saying
this. "I
beg
you
to
say
no
more," said Raskolnikov. "In
any
case
this
is
unpardonable impertinence." "Not
in
the
least.
Then
a
man
may
do
nothing
but
harm
to
his
neighbour
in
this
world,
and
is
prevented
from
doing
the
tiniest
bit
of
good
by
trivial
conventional
formalities. That's absurd.
If
I died,
for
instance,
and
left
that
sum
to
your
sister
in
my will, surely
she
wouldn't
refuse
it?" "Very
likely
she
would." "Oh, no, indeed. However,
if
you
refuse
it,
so
be
it,
though
ten
thousand
roubles
is
a
capital
thing
to
have
on
occasion.
In
any
case
I
beg
you
to
repeat
what
I
have
said
to
Avdotya Romanovna." "No, I won't." "In
that
case, Rodion Romanovitch, I
shall
be
obliged
to
try
and
see
her
myself
and
worry
her
by
doing so." "And
if
I
do
tell
her,
will
you
not
try
to
see
her?" "I don't
know
really
what
to
say. I
should
like
very
much
to
see
her
once
more." "Don't
hope
for
it." "I'm sorry.
But
you
don't
know
me.
Perhaps
we
may
become
better
friends." "You
think
we
may
become
friends?" "And
why
not?" Svidrigaďlov said, smiling.
He
stood
up
and
took
his
hat. "I didn't
quite
intend
to
disturb
you
and
I came
here
without
reckoning
on
it...
though
I
was
very
much
struck
by
your
face
this
morning." "Where
did
you
see
me
this
morning?" Raskolnikov
asked
uneasily. "Oh,
all
right.
Are
you
starting
soon
on
your
travels,
may
I ask?" "What travels?" "Why,
on
that
'journey';
you
spoke
of
it
yourself." "A journey? Oh, yes. I
did
speak
of
a journey. Well, that's a
wide
subject....
if
only
you
knew
what
you
are
asking,"
he
added,
and
gave a sudden, loud,
short
laugh. "Perhaps I'll
get
married
instead
of
the
journey. They're
making
a match
for
me." "Here?" "Yes." "How
have
you
had time
for
that?" "But I
am
very
anxious
to
see
Avdotya Romanovna once. I
earnestly
beg
it. Well, good-bye
for
the
present. Oh, yes. I
have
forgotten something.
Tell
your
sister, Rodion Romanovitch,
that
Marfa Petrovna
remembered
her
in
her
will
and
left
her
three
thousand
roubles. That's
absolutely
certain. Marfa Petrovna
arranged
it
a
week
before
her
death,
and
it
was
done
in
my presence. Avdotya Romanovna
will
be
able
to
receive
the
money
in
two
or
three
weeks." "Are
you
telling
the
truth?" "Yes,
tell
her. Well,
your
servant. I
am
staying
very
near
you."
As
he
went out, Svidrigaďlov
ran
up
against Razumihin
in
the
doorway.