It
was
nearly
eight
o'clock.
The
two
young
men hurried
to
Bakaleyev's,
to
arrive
before
Luzhin. "Why,
who
was
that?"
asked
Razumihin,
as
soon
as
they
were
in
the
street. "It
was
Svidrigaďlov,
that
landowner
in
whose
house
my
sister
was
insulted
when
she
was
their
governess.
Through
his
persecuting
her
with
his
attentions,
she
was
turned
out
by
his
wife, Marfa Petrovna.
This
Marfa Petrovna
begged
Dounia's
forgiveness
afterwards,
and
she's
just
died
suddenly.
It
was
of
her
we
were
talking
this
morning. I don't
know
why
I'm
afraid
of
that
man.
He
came
here
at
once
after
his
wife's funeral.
He
is
very
strange,
and
is
determined
on
doing something....
We
must
guard
Dounia
from
him... that's
what
I wanted
to
tell
you,
do
you
hear?" "Guard her!
What
can
he
do
to
harm
Avdotya Romanovna?
Thank
you, Rodya,
for
speaking
to
me
like
that....
We
will,
we
will
guard
her.
Where
does
he
live?" "I don't know." "Why didn't
you
ask?
What
a pity! I'll find out, though." "Did
you
see
him?"
asked
Raskolnikov
after
a pause. "Yes, I noticed him, I noticed
him
well." "You
did
really
see
him?
You
saw
him
clearly?" Raskolnikov insisted. "Yes, I
remember
him
perfectly, I
should
know
him
in
a thousand; I
have
a
good
memory
for
faces."
They
were
silent
again. "Hm!... that's
all
right,"
muttered
Raskolnikov. "Do
you
know, I fancied... I
keep
thinking
that
it
may
have
been
an
hallucination." "What
do
you
mean? I don't
understand
you." "Well,
you
all
say," Raskolnikov went on, twisting
his
mouth
into
a smile, "that I
am
mad. I
thought
just
now
that
perhaps
I really
am
mad,
and
have
only
seen
a phantom." "What
do
you
mean?" "Why,
who
can
tell?
Perhaps
I
am
really mad,
and
perhaps
everything
that
happened
all
these
days
may
be
only
imagination." "Ach, Rodya,
you
have
been upset again!...
But
what
did
he
say,
what
did
he
come
for?" Raskolnikov
did
not
answer. Razumihin
thought
a minute. "Now
let
me
tell
you
my story,"
he
began, "I came
to
you,
you
were
asleep.
Then
we
had
dinner
and
then
I went
to
Porfiry's, Zametov
was
still
with
him. I tried
to
begin,
but
it
was
no
use. I couldn't
speak
in
the
right
way.
They
don't
seem
to
understand
and
can't understand,
but
are
not
a
bit
ashamed. I
drew
Porfiry
to
the
window,
and
began talking
to
him,
but
it
was
still
no
use.
He
looked
away
and
I
looked
away.
At
last
I shook my
fist
in
his
ugly
face,
and
told
him
as
a
cousin
I'd
brain
him.
He
merely
looked
at
me, I
cursed
and
came away.
That
was
all.
It
was
very
stupid.
To
Zametov I didn't
say
a word. But,
you
see, I
thought
I'd
made
a
mess
of
it,
but
as
I went downstairs a
brilliant
idea
struck me:
why
should
we
trouble?
Of
course
if
you
were
in
any
danger
or
anything,
but
why
need
you
care?
You
needn't
care
a
hang
for
them.
We
shall
have
a laugh
at
them
afterwards,
and
if
I
were
in
your
place
I'd
mystify
them
more
than
ever.
How
ashamed
they'll
be
afterwards!
Hang
them!
We
can
thrash
them
afterwards,
but
let's laugh
at
them
now!" "To
be
sure,"
answered
Raskolnikov. "But
what
will
you
say
to-morrow?"
he
thought
to
himself.
Strange
to
say,
till
that
moment
it
had
never
occurred
to
him
to
wonder
what
Razumihin
would
think
when
he
knew.
As
he
thought
it, Raskolnikov
looked
at
him. Razumihin's
account
of
his
visit
to
Porfiry had
very
little
interest
for
him,
so
much
had
come
and
gone
since
then.
In
the
corridor
they
came
upon
Luzhin;
he
had
arrived
punctually
at
eight,
and
was
looking
for
the
number,
so
that
all
three
went
in
together
without
greeting
or
looking
at
one
another.
The
young
men walked
in
first,
while
Pyotr Petrovitch,
for
good
manners,
lingered
a
little
in
the
passage,
taking
off
his
coat. Pulcheria Alexandrovna came forward
at
once
to
greet
him
in
the
doorway, Dounia
was
welcoming
her
brother. Pyotr Petrovitch walked
in
and
quite
amiably,
though
with
redoubled
dignity,
bowed
to
the
ladies.
He
looked, however,
as
though
he
were
a
little
put
out
and
could
not
yet
recover
himself. Pulcheria Alexandrovna,
who
seemed
also
a
little
embarrassed, hastened
to
make
them
all
sit
down
at
the
round table
where
a
samovar
was
boiling. Dounia
and
Luzhin
were
facing
one
another
on
opposite
sides
of
the
table. Razumihin
and
Raskolnikov
were
facing Pulcheria Alexandrovna, Razumihin
was
next
to
Luzhin
and
Raskolnikov
was
beside
his
sister. A moment's silence followed. Pyotr Petrovitch
deliberately
drew
out
a
cambric
handkerchief
reeking
of
scent
and
blew
his
nose
with
an
air
of
a
benevolent
man
who
felt
himself
slighted,
and
was
firmly
resolved
to
insist
on
an
explanation.
In
the
passage
the
idea
had
occurred
to
him
to
keep
on
his
overcoat
and
walk away,
and
so
give
the
two
ladies a sharp
and
emphatic
lesson
and
make
them
feel
the
gravity
of
the
position.
But
he
could
not
bring
himself
to
do
this. Besides,
he
could
not
endure
uncertainty,
and
he
wanted
an
explanation:
if
his
request
had been
so
openly
disobeyed,
there
was
something
behind
it,
and
in
that
case
it
was
better
to
find
it
out
beforehand;
it
rested
with
him
to
punish
them
and
there
would
always
be
time
for
that. "I
trust
you
had a
favourable
journey,"
he
inquired
officially
of
Pulcheria Alexandrovna. "Oh, very, Pyotr Petrovitch." "I
am
gratified
to
hear
it.
And
Avdotya Romanovna
is
not
over-fatigued either?" "I
am
young
and
strong, I don't
get
tired,
but
it
was
a
great
strain
for
mother,"
answered
Dounia. "That's unavoidable!
our
national
railways
are
of
terrible
length. 'Mother Russia,'
as
they
say,
is
a
vast
country....
In
spite
of
all
my
desire
to
do
so, I
was
unable
to
meet
you
yesterday.
But
I
trust
all
passed
off
without
inconvenience?" "Oh, no, Pyotr Petrovitch,
it
was
all
terribly disheartening," Pulcheria Alexandrovna hastened
to
declare
with
peculiar
intonation, "and
if
Dmitri Prokofitch had
not
been sent us, I really
believe
by
God
Himself,
we
should
have
been
utterly
lost. Here,
he
is! Dmitri Prokofitch Razumihin,"
she
added,
introducing
him
to
Luzhin. "I had
the
pleasure... yesterday,"
muttered
Pyotr Petrovitch
with
a
hostile
glance
sidelong
at
Razumihin;
then
he
scowled
and
was
silent. Pyotr Petrovitch
belonged
to
that
class
of
persons,
on
the
surface
very
polite
in
society,
who
make
a
great
point
of
punctiliousness,
but
who, directly
they
are
crossed
in
anything,
are
completely disconcerted,
and
become
more
like
sacks
of
flour
than
elegant
and
lively
men
of
society.
Again
all
was
silent; Raskolnikov
was
obstinately
mute, Avdotya Romanovna
was
unwilling
to
open
the
conversation
too
soon. Razumihin had
nothing
to
say,
so
Pulcheria Alexandrovna
was
anxious
again. "Marfa Petrovna
is
dead,
have
you
heard?"
she
began
having
recourse
to
her
leading
item
of
conversation. "To
be
sure, I
heard
so. I
was
immediately informed,
and
I
have
come
to
make
you
acquainted
with
the
fact
that
Arkady Ivanovitch Svidrigaďlov
set
off
in
haste
for
Petersburg immediately
after
his
wife's funeral.
So
at
least
I
have
excellent
authority
for
believing." "To Petersburg? here?" Dounia
asked
in
alarm
and
looked
at
her
mother. "Yes, indeed,
and
doubtless
not
without
some
design,
having
in
view
the
rapidity
of
his
departure,
and
all
the
circumstances
preceding
it." "Good heavens! won't
he
leave
Dounia
in
peace
even
here?" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. "I
imagine
that
neither
you
nor
Avdotya Romanovna
have
any
grounds
for
uneasiness, unless,
of
course,
you
are
yourselves
desirous
of
getting
into
communication
with
him.
For
my
part
I
am
on
my guard,
and
am
now
discovering
where
he
is
lodging." "Oh, Pyotr Petrovitch,
you
would
not
believe
what
a
fright
you
have
given
me," Pulcheria Alexandrovna went on: "I've
only
seen
him
twice,
but
I
thought
him
terrible, terrible! I
am
convinced
that
he
was
the
cause
of
Marfa Petrovna's death." "It's
impossible
to
be
certain
about
that. I
have
precise
information. I
do
not
dispute
that
he
may
have
contributed
to
accelerate
the
course
of
events
by
the
moral
influence,
so
to
say,
of
the
affront;
but
as
to
the
general
conduct
and
moral
characteristics
of
that
personage, I
am
in
agreement
with
you. I
do
not
know
whether
he
is
well
off
now,
and
precisely
what
Marfa Petrovna left him;
this
will
be
known
to
me
within
a
very
short
period;
but
no
doubt
here
in
Petersburg,
if
he
has
any
pecuniary
resources,
he
will
relapse
at
once
into
his
old
ways.
He
is
the
most
depraved,
and
abjectly
vicious
specimen
of
that
class
of
men. I
have
considerable
reason
to
believe
that
Marfa Petrovna,
who
was
so
unfortunate
as
to
fall
in
love
with
him
and
to
pay
his
debts
eight
years
ago,
was
of
service
to
him
also
in
another
way. Solely
by
her
exertions
and
sacrifices, a criminal charge,
involving
an
element
of
fantastic
and
homicidal brutality
for
which
he
might
well
have
been sentenced
to
Siberia,
was
hushed
up. That's
the
sort
of
man
he
is,
if
you
care
to
know." "Good heavens!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Raskolnikov
listened
attentively. "Are
you
speaking
the
truth
when
you
say
that
you
have
good
evidence
of
this?" Dounia
asked
sternly
and
emphatically. "I
only
repeat
what
I
was
told
in
secret
by
Marfa Petrovna. I
must
observe
that
from
the
legal
point
of
view
the
case
was
far
from
clear.
There
was,
and
I
believe
still
is,
living
here
a
woman
called
Resslich, a foreigner,
who
lent
small
sums
of
money
at
interest,
and
did
other
commissions,
and
with
this
woman
Svidrigaďlov had
for
a
long
while
close
and
mysterious
relations.
She
had a relation, a
niece
I believe,
living
with
her, a
deaf
and
dumb
girl
of
fifteen,
or
perhaps
not
more
than
fourteen. Resslich
hated
this
girl,
and
grudged
her
every
crust;
she
used
to
beat
her
mercilessly.
One
day
the
girl
was
found hanging
in
the
garret.
At
the
inquest
the
verdict
was
suicide.
After
the
usual
proceedings
the
matter
ended, but, later on,
information
was
given
that
the
child
had been...
cruelly
outraged
by
Svidrigaďlov.
It
is
true,
this
was
not
clearly established,
the
information
was
given
by
another
German
woman
of
loose
character
whose
word
could
not
be
trusted;
no
statement
was
actually
made
to
the
police,
thanks
to
Marfa Petrovna's
money
and
exertions;
it
did
not
get
beyond
gossip.
And
yet
the
story
is
a
very
significant
one.
You
heard,
no
doubt, Avdotya Romanovna,
when
you
were
with
them
the
story
of
the
servant
Philip
who
died
of
ill
treatment
he
received
six
years
ago,
before
the
abolition
of
serfdom." "I heard,
on
the
contrary,
that
this
Philip
hanged himself." "Quite so,
but
what
drove
him,
or
rather
perhaps
disposed him,
to
suicide
was
the
systematic
persecution
and
severity
of
Mr. Svidrigaďlov." "I don't
know
that,"
answered
Dounia, dryly. "I
only
heard
a queer
story
that
Philip
was
a
sort
of
hypochondriac, a
sort
of
domestic
philosopher,
the
servants
used
to
say, 'he read
himself
silly,'
and
that
he
hanged
himself
partly
on
account
of
Mr. Svidrigaďlov's
mockery
of
him
and
not
his
blows.
When
I
was
there
he
behaved
well
to
the
servants,
and
they
were
actually
fond
of
him,
though
they
certainly
did
blame
him
for
Philip's death." "I perceive, Avdotya Romanovna,
that
you
seem
disposed
to
undertake
his
defence
all
of
a sudden," Luzhin observed, twisting
his
lips
into
an
ambiguous
smile, "there's
no
doubt
that
he
is
an
astute
man,
and
insinuating
where
ladies
are
concerned,
of
which
Marfa Petrovna,
who
has
died
so
strangely,
is
a
terrible
instance. My
only
desire
has been
to
be
of
service
to
you
and
your
mother
with
my advice,
in
view
of
the
renewed
efforts
which
may
certainly
be
anticipated
from
him.
For
my
part
it's my
firm
conviction,
that
he
will
end
in
a debtor's
prison
again. Marfa Petrovna had
not
the
slightest
intention
of
settling
anything
substantial
on
him,
having
regard
for
his
children's interests, and,
if
she
left
him
anything,
it
would
only
be
the
merest
sufficiency,
something
insignificant
and
ephemeral,
which
would
not
last
a
year
for
a
man
of
his
habits." "Pyotr Petrovitch, I
beg
you," said Dounia, "say
no
more
of
Mr. Svidrigaďlov.
It
makes
me
miserable." "He has
just
been
to
see
me," said Raskolnikov,
breaking
his
silence
for
the
first
time.
There
were
exclamations
from
all,
and
they
all
turned
to
him.
Even
Pyotr Petrovitch
was
roused. "An
hour
and
a
half
ago,
he
came
in
when
I
was
asleep,
waked
me,
and
introduced
himself," Raskolnikov continued. "He
was
fairly
cheerful
and
at
ease,
and
quite
hopes
that
we
shall
become
friends.
He
is
particularly anxious,
by
the
way, Dounia,
for
an
interview
with
you,
at
which
he
asked
me
to
assist.
He
has a proposition
to
make
to
you,
and
he
told
me
about
it.
He
told
me, too,
that
a
week
before
her
death
Marfa Petrovna left
you
three
thousand
roubles
in
her
will, Dounia,
and
that
you
can
receive
the
money
very
shortly." "Thank God!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna, crossing herself. "Pray
for
her
soul, Dounia!" "It's a fact!"
broke
from
Luzhin. "Tell us,
what
more?" Dounia urged Raskolnikov. "Then
he
said
that
he
wasn't
rich
and
all
the
estate
was
left
to
his
children
who
are
now
with
an
aunt,
then
that
he
was
staying somewhere
not
far
from
me,
but
where, I don't know, I didn't ask...." "But what,
what
does
he
want
to
propose
to
Dounia?" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna
in
a fright. "Did
he
tell
you?" "Yes." "What
was
it?" "I'll
tell
you
afterwards." Raskolnikov
ceased
speaking
and
turned
his
attention
to
his
tea. Pyotr Petrovitch
looked
at
his
watch. "I
am
compelled
to
keep
a
business
engagement,
and
so
I
shall
not
be
in
your
way,"
he
added
with
an
air
of
some
pique
and
he
began
getting
up. "Don't go, Pyotr Petrovitch," said Dounia, "you
intended
to
spend
the
evening. Besides,
you
wrote yourself
that
you
wanted
to
have
an
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. Svidrigaďlov, 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. 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." 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 Svidrigaďlov,
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.