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
Svidrigaďlov....
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
Svidrigaďlov
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
Svidrigaďlov,
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
he
is
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
Svidrigaďlov'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, there's
no
doubt
about
that
either.
He
knows
the
business....
But
we
can
talk
it
over
later...." "Hurrah!" cried Razumihin. "Now, stay, there's a
flat
here
in
this
house,
belonging
to
the
same
owner. It's a
special
flat
apart,
not
communicating
with
these
lodgings. It's furnished,
rent
moderate,
three
rooms.
Suppose
you
take
them
to
begin
with. I'll pawn
your
watch
to-morrow
and
bring
you
the
money,
and
everything
can
be
arranged
then.
You
can
all
three
live
together,
and
Rodya
will
be
with
you.
But
where
are
you
off
to, Rodya?" "What, Rodya,
you
are
going already?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna
asked
in
dismay. "At
such
a minute?" cried Razumihin. Dounia
looked
at
her
brother
with
incredulous
wonder.
He
held
his
cap
in
his
hand,
he
was
preparing
to
leave
them. "One
would
think
you
were
burying
me
or
saying
good-bye
for
ever,"
he
said
somewhat
oddly.
He
attempted
to
smile,
but
it
did
not
turn
out
a smile. "But
who
knows,
perhaps
it
is
the
last
time
we
shall
see
each
other..."
he
let
slip accidentally.
It
was
what
he
was
thinking,
and
it
somehow
was
uttered
aloud. "What
is
the
matter
with
you?" cried
his
mother. "Where
are
you
going, Rodya?"
asked
Dounia
rather
strangely. "Oh, I'm
quite
obliged to..."
he
answered
vaguely,
as
though
hesitating
what
he
would
say.
But
there
was
a
look
of
sharp
determination
in
his
white
face. "I meant
to
say...
as
I
was
coming here... I meant
to
tell
you, mother,
and
you, Dounia,
that
it
would
be
better
for
us
to
part
for
a time. I feel ill, I
am
not
at
peace.... I
will
come
afterwards, I
will
come
of
myself...
when
it's possible. I
remember
you
and
love
you....
Leave
me,
leave
me
alone. I decided
this
even
before... I'm
absolutely
resolved
on
it. Whatever
may
come
to
me,
whether
I
come
to
ruin
or
not, I
want
to
be
alone.
Forget
me
altogether, it's better. Don't
inquire
about
me.
When
I can, I'll
come
of
myself
or... I'll
send
for
you.
Perhaps
it
will
all
come
back,
but
now
if
you
love
me,
give
me
up...
else
I
shall
begin
to
hate
you, I feel it.... Good-bye!" "Good God!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.
Both
his
mother
and
his
sister
were
terribly alarmed. Razumihin
was
also. "Rodya, Rodya,
be
reconciled
with
us!
Let
us
be
as
before!" cried
his
poor
mother.
He
turned
slowly
to
the
door
and
slowly
went
out
of
the
room. Dounia overtook him. "Brother,
what
are
you
doing
to
mother?"
she
whispered,
her
eyes
flashing
with
indignation.
He
looked
dully
at
her. "No matter, I
shall
come.... I'm coming,"
he
muttered
in
an
undertone,
as
though
not
fully
conscious
of
what
he
was
saying,
and
he
went
out
of
the
room. "Wicked,
heartless
egoist!" cried Dounia. "He
is
insane,
but
not
heartless.
He
is
mad! Don't
you
see
it? You're
heartless
after
that!" Razumihin whispered
in
her
ear, squeezing
her
hand
tightly. "I
shall
be
back
directly,"
he
shouted
to
the
horror-stricken mother,
and
he
ran
out
of
the
room. Raskolnikov
was
waiting
for
him
at
the
end
of
the
passage. "I
knew
you
would
run
after
me,"
he
said. "Go
back
to
them—be
with
them...
be
with
them
to-morrow
and
always.... I...
perhaps
I
shall
come...
if
I can. Good-bye."
And
without
holding
out
his
hand
he
walked away. "But
where
are
you
going?
What
are
you
doing? What's
the
matter
with
you?
How
can
you
go
on
like
this?" Razumihin muttered,
at
his
wits' end. Raskolnikov stopped
once
more.
It
was
dark
in
the
corridor,
they
were
standing
near
the
lamp.
For
a
minute
they
were
looking
at
one
another
in
silence. Razumihin
remembered
that
minute
all
his
life. Raskolnikov's
burning
and
intent
eyes
grew
more
penetrating
every
moment, piercing
into
his
soul,
into
his
consciousness. Suddenly Razumihin started.
Something
strange,
as
it
were,
passed
between
them....
Some
idea,
some
hint,
as
it
were, slipped,
something
awful, hideous,
and
suddenly understood
on
both
sides.... Razumihin
turned
pale. "Do
you
understand
now?" said Raskolnikov,
his
face twitching nervously. "Go back,
go
to
them,"
he
said suddenly,
and
turning
quickly,
he
went
out
of
the
house. I
will
not
attempt
to
describe
how
Razumihin went
back
to
the
ladies,
how
he
soothed
them,
how
he
protested
that
Rodya
needed
rest
in
his
illness,
protested
that
Rodya
was
sure
to
come,
that
he
would
come
every
day,
that
he
was
very,
very
much
upset,
that
he
must
not
be
irritated,
that
he, Razumihin,
would
watch
over
him,
would
get
him
a doctor,
the
best
doctor, a consultation....
In
fact
from
that
evening
Razumihin
took
his
place
with
them
as
a
son
and
a brother.