The
morning
that
followed
the
fateful
interview
with
Dounia
and
her
mother brought sobering
influences
to
bear
on
Pyotr Petrovitch.
Intensely
unpleasant
as
it
was,
he
was
forced
little
by
little
to
accept
as
a
fact
beyond
recall
what
had
seemed
to
him
only
the
day
before
fantastic
and
incredible.
The
black
snake
of
wounded
vanity
had been
gnawing
at
his
heart
all
night.
When
he
got
out
of
bed, Pyotr Petrovitch immediately
looked
in
the
looking-glass.
He
was
afraid
that
he
had jaundice. However
his
health
seemed
unimpaired
so
far,
and
looking
at
his
noble, clear-skinned countenance
which
had grown fattish
of
late, Pyotr Petrovitch
for
an
instant
was
positively
comforted
in
the
conviction
that
he
would
find
another
bride
and, perhaps,
even
a
better
one.
But
coming
back
to
the
sense
of
his
present
position,
he
turned
aside
and
spat
vigorously,
which
excited a sarcastic
smile
in
Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov,
the
young
friend
with
whom
he
was
staying.
That
smile
Pyotr Petrovitch noticed,
and
at
once
set
it
down
against
his
young
friend's account.
He
had
set
down
a
good
many
points
against
him
of
late.
His
anger
was
redoubled
when
he
reflected
that
he
ought
not
to
have
told
Andrey Semyonovitch
about
the
result
of
yesterday's interview.
That
was
the
second
mistake
he
had
made
in
temper,
through
impulsiveness
and
irritability.... Moreover,
all
that
morning
one
unpleasantness
followed
another.
He
even
found a hitch
awaiting
him
in
his
legal
case
in
the
senate.
He
was
particularly
irritated
by
the
owner
of
the
flat
which
had been taken
in
view
of
his
approaching
marriage
and
was
being redecorated
at
his
own
expense;
the
owner, a
rich
German
tradesman,
would
not
entertain
the
idea
of
breaking
the
contract
which
had
just
been
signed
and
insisted
on
the
full
forfeit
money,
though
Pyotr Petrovitch
would
be
giving
him
back
the
flat
practically redecorated.
In
the
same
way
the
upholsterers
refused
to
return
a single rouble
of
the
instalment paid
for
the
furniture
purchased
but
not
yet
removed
to
the
flat. "Am I
to
get
married simply
for
the
sake
of
the
furniture?" Pyotr Petrovitch ground
his
teeth
and
at
the
same
time
once
more
he
had a gleam
of
desperate
hope. "Can
all
that
be
really
so
irrevocably over?
Is
it
no
use
to
make
another
effort?"
The
thought
of
Dounia sent a
voluptuous
pang
through
his
heart.
He
endured
anguish
at
that
moment,
and
if
it
had been
possible
to
slay
Raskolnikov instantly
by
wishing
it, Pyotr Petrovitch
would
promptly
have
uttered
the
wish. "It
was
my mistake, too,
not
to
have
given
them
money,"
he
thought,
as
he
returned
dejectedly
to
Lebeziatnikov's room, "and
why
on
earth
was
I
such
a Jew?
It
was
false
economy! I meant
to
keep
them
without
a
penny
so
that
they
should
turn
to
me
as
their
providence,
and
look
at
them! foo!
If
I'd spent
some
fifteen
hundred
roubles
on
them
for
the
trousseau
and
presents,
on
knick-knacks, dressing-cases, jewellery, materials,
and
all
that
sort
of
trash
from
Knopp's
and
the
English
shop, my position
would
have
been
better
and... stronger!
They
could
not
have
refused
me
so
easily!
They
are
the
sort
of
people
that
would
feel bound
to
return
money
and
presents
if
they
broke
it
off;
and
they
would
find
it
hard
to
do
it!
And
their
conscience
would
prick
them:
how
can
we
dismiss
a
man
who
has hitherto been
so
generous
and
delicate?.... H'm! I've
made
a blunder."
And
grinding
his
teeth again, Pyotr Petrovitch
called
himself
a fool—but
not
aloud,
of
course.
He
returned
home,
twice
as
irritated
and
angry
as
before.
The
preparations
for
the
funeral
dinner
at
Katerina Ivanovna's excited
his
curiosity
as
he
passed.
He
had
heard
about
it
the
day
before;
he
fancied, indeed,
that
he
had been invited,
but
absorbed
in
his
own
cares
he
had paid
no
attention.
Inquiring
of
Madame
Lippevechsel
who
was
busy
laying
the
table
while
Katerina Ivanovna
was
away
at
the
cemetery,
he
heard
that
the
entertainment
was
to
be
a
great
affair,
that
all
the
lodgers had been invited,
among
them
some
who
had
not
known
the
dead
man,
that
even
Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov
was
invited
in
spite
of
his
previous
quarrel
with
Katerina Ivanovna,
that
he, Pyotr Petrovitch,
was
not
only
invited,
but
was
eagerly
expected
as
he
was
the
most
important
of
the
lodgers. Amalia Ivanovna
herself
had been invited
with
great
ceremony
in
spite
of
the
recent
unpleasantness,
and
so
she
was
very
busy
with
preparations
and
was
taking
a positive pleasure
in
them;
she
was
moreover dressed
up
to
the
nines,
all
in
new
black
silk,
and
she
was
proud
of
it.
All
this
suggested
an
idea
to
Pyotr Petrovitch
and
he
went
into
his
room,
or
rather
Lebeziatnikov's,
somewhat
thoughtful.
He
had learnt
that
Raskolnikov
was
to
be
one
of
the
guests. Andrey Semyonovitch
was
an
anćmic,
scrofulous
little
man,
with
strangely
flaxen mutton-chop
whiskers
of
which
he
was
very
proud.
He
was
a clerk
and
had
almost
always
something
wrong
with
his
eyes.
He
was
rather
soft-hearted,
but
self-confident
and
sometimes extremely conceited
in
speech,
which
had
an
absurd
effect,
incongruous
with
his
little
figure.
He
was
one
of
the
lodgers
most
respected
by
Amalia Ivanovna,
for
he
did
not
get
drunk
and
paid regularly
for
his
lodgings. Andrey Semyonovitch really
was
rather
stupid;
he
attached
himself
to
the
cause
of
progress
and
"our
younger
generation"
from
enthusiasm.
He
was
one
of
the
numerous
and
varied
legion
of
dullards,
of
half-animate abortions, conceited, half-educated coxcombs,
who
attach
themselves
to
the
idea
most
in
fashion
only
to
vulgarise
it
and
who
caricature
every
cause
they
serve, however sincerely.
Though
Lebeziatnikov
was
so
good-natured, he, too,
was
beginning
to
dislike
Pyotr Petrovitch.
This
happened
on
both
sides
unconsciously. However
simple
Andrey Semyonovitch
might
be,
he
began
to
see
that
Pyotr Petrovitch
was
duping
him
and
secretly
despising
him,
and
that
"he
was
not
the
right
sort
of
man."
He
had tried
expounding
to
him
the
system
of
Fourier
and
the
Darwinian theory,
but
of
late
Pyotr Petrovitch began
to
listen
too
sarcastically
and
even
to
be
rude.
The
fact
was
he
had begun
instinctively
to
guess
that
Lebeziatnikov
was
not
merely a
commonplace
simpleton, but, perhaps, a liar, too,
and
that
he
had
no
connections
of
any
consequence
even
in
his
own
circle,
but
had simply picked
things
up
third-hand;
and
that
very
likely
he
did
not
even
know
much
about
his
own
work
of
propaganda,
for
he
was
in
too
great
a muddle. A
fine
person
he
would
be
to
show
anyone
up!
It
must
be
noted,
by
the
way,
that
Pyotr Petrovitch had
during
those
ten
days
eagerly
accepted
the
strangest
praise
from
Andrey Semyonovitch;
he
had
not
protested,
for
instance,
when
Andrey Semyonovitch belauded
him
for
being
ready
to
contribute
to
the
establishment
of
the
new
"commune,"
or
to
abstain
from
christening
his
future
children,
or
to
acquiesce
if
Dounia
were
to
take
a
lover
a
month
after
marriage,
and
so
on. Pyotr Petrovitch
so
enjoyed
hearing
his
own
praises
that
he
did
not
disdain
even
such
virtues
when
they
were
attributed
to
him. Pyotr Petrovitch had had
occasion
that
morning
to
realise
some
five-per-cent bonds
and
now
he
sat
down
to
the
table
and
counted
over
bundles
of
notes. Andrey Semyonovitch
who
hardly
ever
had
any
money
walked
about
the
room
pretending
to
himself
to
look
at
all
those
bank
notes
with
indifference
and
even
contempt.
Nothing
would
have
convinced
Pyotr Petrovitch
that
Andrey Semyonovitch
could
really
look
on
the
money
unmoved,
and
the
latter,
on
his
side, kept
thinking
bitterly
that
Pyotr Petrovitch
was
capable
of
entertaining
such
an
idea
about
him
and
was, perhaps,
glad
of
the
opportunity
of
teasing
his
young
friend
by
reminding
him
of
his
inferiority
and
the
great
difference
between
them.
He
found
him
incredibly inattentive
and
irritable,
though
he, Andrey Semyonovitch, began
enlarging
on
his
favourite subject,
the
foundation
of
a
new
special
"commune."
The
brief
remarks
that
dropped
from
Pyotr Petrovitch
between
the
clicking
of
the
beads
on
the
reckoning
frame
betrayed
unmistakable
and
discourteous irony.
But
the
"humane" Andrey Semyonovitch
ascribed
Pyotr Petrovitch's ill-humour
to
his
recent
breach
with
Dounia
and
he
was
burning
with
impatience
to
discourse
on
that
theme.
He
had
something
progressive
to
say
on
the
subject
which
might
console
his
worthy
friend
and
"could
not
fail"
to
promote
his
development. "There
is
some
sort
of
festivity
being
prepared
at
that...
at
the
widow's, isn't there?" Pyotr Petrovitch
asked
suddenly, interrupting Andrey Semyonovitch
at
the
most
interesting passage. "Why, don't
you
know? Why, I
was
telling
you
last
night
what
I
think
about
all
such
ceremonies.
And
she
invited
you
too, I heard.
You
were
talking
to
her
yesterday..." "I
should
never
have
expected
that
beggarly fool
would
have
spent
on
this
feast
all
the
money
she
got
from
that
other
fool, Raskolnikov. I
was
surprised
just
now
as
I came
through
at
the
preparations
there,
the
wines!
Several
people
are
invited. It's
beyond
everything!"
continued
Pyotr Petrovitch,
who
seemed
to
have
some
object
in
pursuing
the
conversation. "What?
You
say
I
am
asked
too?
When
was
that? I don't remember.
But
I shan't go.
Why
should
I? I
only
said a
word
to
her
in
passing
yesterday
of
the
possibility
of
her
obtaining
a year's salary
as
a
destitute
widow
of
a
government
clerk. I
suppose
she
has invited
me
on
that
account, hasn't she? He-he-he!" "I don't
intend
to
go
either," said Lebeziatnikov. "I
should
think
not,
after
giving
her
a thrashing!
You
might
well
hesitate, he-he!" "Who thrashed? Whom?" cried Lebeziatnikov,
flustered
and
blushing. "Why,
you
thrashed Katerina Ivanovna a
month
ago. I
heard
so
yesterday...
so
that's
what
your
convictions amount to...
and
the
woman
question, too, wasn't
quite
sound, he-he-he!"
and
Pyotr Petrovitch,
as
though
comforted, went
back
to
clicking
his
beads. "It's
all
slander
and
nonsense!" cried Lebeziatnikov,
who
was
always
afraid
of
allusions
to
the
subject. "It
was
not
like
that
at
all,
it
was
quite
different. You've
heard
it
wrong; it's a libel. I
was
simply
defending
myself.
She
rushed
at
me
first
with
her
nails,
she
pulled
out
all
my whiskers.... It's permissable
for
anyone, I
should
hope,
to
defend
himself
and
I
never
allow
anyone
to
use
violence
to
me
on
principle,
for
it's
an
act
of
despotism.
What
was
I
to
do? I simply
pushed
her
back." "He-he-he!" Luzhin went
on
laughing maliciously. "You
keep
on
like
that
because
you
are
out
of
humour
yourself....
But
that's
nonsense
and
it
has nothing,
nothing
whatever
to
do
with
the
woman
question!
You
don't understand; I used
to
think, indeed,
that
if
women
are
equal
to
men
in
all
respects,
even
in
strength
(as
is
maintained
now)
there
ought
to
be
equality
in
that, too.
Of
course, I
reflected
afterwards
that
such
a
question
ought
not
really
to
arise,
for
there
ought
not
to
be
fighting
and
in
the
future
society
fighting
is
unthinkable...
and
that
it
would
be
a queer
thing
to
seek
for
equality
in
fighting. I
am
not
so
stupid... though,
of
course,
there
is
fighting...
there
won't
be
later,
but
at
present
there
is...
confound
it!
How
muddled
one
gets
with
you! It's
not
on
that
account
that
I
am
not
going. I
am
not
going
on
principle,
not
to
take
part
in
the
revolting
convention
of
memorial
dinners, that's why! Though,
of
course,
one
might
go
to
laugh
at
it.... I
am
sorry
there
won't
be
any
priests
at
it. I
should
certainly
go
if
there
were." "Then
you
would
sit
down
at
another
man's table
and
insult
it
and
those
who
invited you. Eh?" "Certainly
not
insult,
but
protest. I
should
do
it
with
a
good
object. I
might
indirectly assist
the
cause
of
enlightenment
and
propaganda. It's a
duty
of
every
man
to
work
for
enlightenment
and
propaganda
and
the
more
harshly, perhaps,
the
better. I
might
drop
a seed,
an
idea....
And
something
might
grow
up
from
that
seed.
How
should
I
be
insulting
them?
They
might
be
offended
at
first,
but
afterwards they'd
see
I'd
done
them
a service.
You
know, Terebyeva (who
is
in
the
community
now)
was
blamed
because
when
she
left
her
family
and... devoted... herself,
she
wrote
to
her
father
and
mother
that
she
wouldn't
go
on
living
conventionally
and
was
entering
on
a
free
marriage
and
it
was
said
that
that
was
too
harsh,
that
she
might
have
spared
them
and
have
written
more
kindly. I
think
that's
all
nonsense
and
there's
no
need
of
softness;
on
the
contrary, what's wanted
is
protest. Varents had been married
seven
years,
she
abandoned
her
two
children,
she
told
her
husband straight
out
in
a letter: 'I
have
realised
that
I cannot
be
happy
with
you. I
can
never
forgive
you
that
you
have
deceived
me
by
concealing
from
me
that
there
is
another
organisation
of
society
by
means
of
the
communities. I
have
only
lately
learned
it
from
a great-hearted
man
to
whom
I
have
given
myself
and
with
whom
I
am
establishing
a community. I
speak
plainly
because
I
consider
it
dishonest
to
deceive
you.
Do
as
you
think
best.
Do
not
hope
to
get
me
back,
you
are
too
late. I
hope
you
will
be
happy.' That's
how
letters
like
that
ought
to
be
written!" "Is
that
Terebyeva
the
one
you
said had
made
a
third
free
marriage?" "No, it's
only
the
second, really!
But
what
if
it
were
the
fourth,
what
if
it
were
the
fifteenth, that's
all
nonsense!
And
if
ever
I
regretted
the
death
of
my father
and
mother,
it
is
now,
and
I sometimes
think
if
my
parents
were
living
what
a
protest
I
would
have
aimed
at
them! I
would
have
done
something
on
purpose... I
would
have
shown them! I
would
have
astonished
them! I
am
really
sorry
there
is
no
one!" "To surprise! He-he! Well,
be
that
as
you
will," Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted, "but
tell
me
this;
do
you
know
the
dead
man's daughter,
the
delicate-looking
little
thing? It's true
what
they
say
about
her, isn't it?" "I
was
told
that
you
got
her
turned
out
of
these
lodgings." Lebeziatnikov
was
enraged. "That's
another
slander,"
he
yelled. "It
was
not
so
at
all!
That
was
all
Katerina Ivanovna's invention,
for
she
did
not
understand!
And
I
never
made
love
to
Sofya Semyonovna! I
was
simply
developing
her, entirely disinterestedly, trying
to
rouse
her
to
protest....
All
I wanted
was
her
protest
and
Sofya Semyonovna
could
not
have
remained
here
anyway!" "Have
you
asked
her
to
join
your
community?" "You
keep
on
laughing
and
very
inappropriately,
allow
me
to
tell
you.
You
don't understand!
There
is
no
such
rôle
in
a community.
The
community
is
established
that
there
should
be
no
such
rôles.
In
a community,
such
a rôle
is
essentially
transformed
and
what
is
stupid
here
is
sensible
there, what,
under
present
conditions,
is
unnatural
becomes
perfectly
natural
in
the
community.
It
all
depends
on
the
environment. It's
all
the
environment
and
man
himself
is
nothing.
And
I
am
on
good
terms
with
Sofya Semyonovna
to
this
day,
which
is
a
proof
that
she
never
regarded
me
as
having
wronged
her. I
am
trying
now
to
attract
her
to
the
community,
but
on
quite,
quite
a
different
footing.
What
are
you
laughing at?
We
are
trying
to
establish
a
community
of
our
own, a
special
one,
on
a
broader
basis.
We
have
gone
further
in
our
convictions.
We
reject more!
And
meanwhile I'm
still
developing
Sofya Semyonovna.
She
has a beautiful, beautiful character!" "And
you
take
advantage
of
her
fine
character, eh? He-he!" "No, no! Oh, no!
On
the
contrary." "Oh,
on
the
contrary! He-he-he! A queer
thing
to
say!" "Believe me!
Why
should
I disguise it?
In
fact, I feel
it
strange
myself
how
timid,
chaste
and
modern
she
is
with
me!" "And you,
of
course,
are
developing
her... he-he! trying
to
prove
to
her
that
all
that
modesty
is
nonsense?" "Not
at
all,
not
at
all!
How
coarsely,
how
stupidly—excuse
me
saying
so—you misunderstand
the
word
development!
Good
heavens, how...
crude
you
still
are!
We
are
striving
for
the
freedom
of
women
and
you
have
only
one
idea
in
your
head....
Setting
aside
the
general
question
of
chastity
and
feminine
modesty
as
useless
in
themselves
and
indeed
prejudices, I
fully
accept
her
chastity
with
me,
because
that's
for
her
to
decide.
Of
course
if
she
were
to
tell
me
herself
that
she
wanted me, I
should
think
myself
very
lucky,
because
I
like
the
girl
very
much;
but
as
it
is,
no
one
has
ever
treated
her
more
courteously
than
I,
with
more
respect
for
her
dignity... I
wait
in
hopes, that's all!" "You had
much
better
make
her
a
present
of
something. I
bet
you
never
thought
of
that." "You don't understand,
as
I've
told
you
already!
Of
course,
she
is
in
such
a position,
but
it's
another
question.
Quite
another
question!
You
simply
despise
her.
Seeing
a
fact
which
you
mistakenly
consider
deserving
of
contempt,
you
refuse
to
take
a humane view
of
a
fellow
creature.
You
don't
know
what
a
character
she
is! I
am
only
sorry
that
of
late
she
has
quite
given
up
reading
and
borrowing
books. I used
to
lend
them
to
her. I
am
sorry, too,
that
with
all
the
energy
and
resolution
in
protesting—which
she
has
already
shown once—she has
little
self-reliance, little,
so
to
say, independence,
so
as
to
break
free
from
certain
prejudices
and
certain
foolish
ideas.
Yet
she
thoroughly
understands
some
questions,
for
instance
about
kissing
of
hands,
that
is,
that
it's
an
insult
to
a
woman
for
a
man
to
kiss
her
hand,
because
it's a
sign
of
inequality.
We
had a
debate
about
it
and
I
described
it
to
her.
She
listened
attentively
to
an
account
of
the
workmen's
associations
in
France, too.
Now
I
am
explaining
the
question
of
coming
into
the
room
in
the
future
society." "And what's that, pray?" "We had a
debate
lately
on
the
question: Has a
member
of
the
community
the
right
to
enter
another
member's room,
whether
man
or
woman,
at
any
time...
and
we
decided
that
he
has!" "It
might
be
at
an
inconvenient
moment, he-he!" Lebeziatnikov
was
really angry. "You
are
always
thinking
of
something
unpleasant,"
he
cried
with
aversion. "Tfoo!
How
vexed
I
am
that
when
I
was
expounding
our
system, I
referred
prematurely
to
the
question
of
personal
privacy! It's
always
a stumbling-block
to
people
like
you,
they
turn
it
into
ridicule
before
they
understand
it.
And
how
proud
they
are
of
it, too! Tfoo! I've
often
maintained
that
that
question
should
not
be
approached
by
a
novice
till
he
has a
firm
faith
in
the
system.
And
tell
me, please,
what
do
you
find
so
shameful
even
in
cesspools? I
should
be
the
first
to
be
ready
to
clean
out
any
cesspool
you
like.
And
it's
not
a
question
of
self-sacrifice, it's simply work, honourable, useful
work
which
is
as
good
as
any
other
and
much
better
than
the
work
of
a
Raphael
and
a Pushkin,
because
it
is
more
useful." "And
more
honourable,
more
honourable, he-he-he!" Pyotr Petrovitch laughed heartily.
He
had finished
counting
the
money
and
was
putting
it
away.
But
some
of
the
notes
he
left
on
the
table.
The
"cesspool question" had
already
been a
subject
of
dispute
between
them.
What
was
absurd
was
that
it
made
Lebeziatnikov really angry,
while
it
amused
Luzhin
and
at
that
moment
he
particularly wanted
to
anger
his
young
friend. "It's
your
ill-luck
yesterday
that
makes
you
so
ill-humoured
and
annoying," blurted
out
Lebeziatnikov,
who
in
spite
of
his
"independence"
and
his
"protests"
did
not
venture
to
oppose
Pyotr Petrovitch
and
still
behaved
to
him
with
some
of
the
respect
habitual
in
earlier years. "You'd
better
tell
me
this," Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted
with
haughty
displeasure, "can you...
or
rather
are
you
really
friendly
enough
with
that
young
person
to
ask
her
to
step
in
here
for
a minute? I
think
they've
all
come
back
from
the
cemetery... I
heard
the
sound
of
steps... I
want
to
see
her,
that
young
person." "What for?" Lebeziatnikov
asked
with
surprise. "Oh, I
want
to. I
am
leaving
here
to-day
or
to-morrow
and
therefore
I wanted
to
speak
to
her
about... However,
you
may
be
present
during
the
interview. It's
better
you
should
be, indeed.
For
there's
no
knowing
what
you
might
imagine." "I shan't
imagine
anything. I
only
asked
and,
if
you've
anything
to
say
to
her,
nothing
is
easier
than
to
call
her
in. I'll
go
directly
and
you
may
be
sure
I won't
be
in
your
way." "Is Raskolnikov
in
there? Has
he
come?"
he
asked
him
in
a whisper. "Raskolnikov? Yes. Why? Yes,
he
is
there. I
saw
him
just
come
in.... Why?" "Well, I particularly
beg
you
to
remain
here
with
us
and
not
to
leave
me
alone
with
this...
young
woman. I
only
want
a
few
words
with
her,
but
God
knows
what
they
may
make
of
it. I shouldn't
like
Raskolnikov
to
repeat anything....
You
understand
what
I mean?" "I understand!" Lebeziatnikov
saw
the
point. "Yes,
you
are
right....
Of
course, I
am
convinced
personally
that
you
have
no
reason
to
be
uneasy, but... still,
you
are
right. Certainly I'll stay. I'll
stand
here
at
the
window
and
not
be
in
your
way... I
think
you
are
right..." Pyotr Petrovitch
returned
to
the
sofa, sat
down
opposite
Sonia,
looked
attentively
at
her
and
assumed
an
extremely dignified,
even
severe
expression,
as
much
as
to
say, "don't
you
make
any
mistake, madam." Sonia
was
overwhelmed
with
embarrassment. "In
the
first
place, Sofya Semyonovna,
will
you
make
my
excuses
to
your
respected
mamma.... That's right, isn't it? Katerina Ivanovna
stands
in
the
place
of
a mother
to
you?" Pyotr Petrovitch began
with
great
dignity,
though
affably.
It
was
evident
that
his
intentions
were
friendly. "Quite so, yes;
the
place
of
a mother," Sonia answered,
timidly
and
hurriedly. "Then
will
you
make
my
apologies
to
her?
Through
inevitable
circumstances I
am
forced
to
be
absent
and
shall
not
be
at
the
dinner
in
spite
of
your
mamma's
kind
invitation." "Yes... I'll
tell
her...
at
once."
And
Sonia hastily jumped
up
from
her
seat. "Wait, that's
not
all," Pyotr Petrovitch
detained
her,
smiling
at
her
simplicity
and
ignorance
of
good
manners, "and
you
know
me
little, my
dear
Sofya Semyonovna,
if
you
suppose
I
would
have
ventured
to
trouble
a
person
like
you
for
a
matter
of
so
little
consequence
affecting
myself
only. I
have
another
object." "I
chanced
yesterday
in
passing
to
exchange
a
couple
of
words
with
Katerina Ivanovna,
poor
woman.
That
was
sufficient
to
enable
me
to
ascertain
that
she
is
in
a position—preternatural,
if
one
may
so
express it." "Yes... preternatural..." Sonia hurriedly assented. "Or
it
would
be
simpler
and
more
comprehensible
to
say, ill." "Yes,
simpler
and
more
comprehen... yes, ill." "Quite so.
So
then
from
a feeling
of
humanity
and
so
to
speak
compassion, I
should
be
glad
to
be
of
service
to
her
in
any
way,
foreseeing
her
unfortunate position. I
believe
the
whole
of
this
poverty-stricken
family
depends
now
entirely
on
you?" "Allow
me
to
ask," Sonia
rose
to
her
feet, "did
you
say
something
to
her
yesterday
of
the
possibility
of
a pension?
Because
she
told
me
you
had
undertaken
to
get
her
one.
Was
that
true?" "Not
in
the
slightest,
and
indeed
it's
an
absurdity! I merely hinted
at
her
obtaining
temporary
assistance
as
the
widow
of
an
official
who
had
died
in
the
service—if
only
she
has patronage...
but
apparently
your
late
parent
had
not
served
his
full
term
and
had
not
indeed
been
in
the
service
at
all
of
late.
In
fact,
if
there
could
be
any
hope,
it
would
be
very
ephemeral,
because
there
would
be
no
claim
for
assistance
in
that
case,
far
from
it....
And
she
is
dreaming
of
a
pension
already, he-he-he!... A go-ahead lady!" "Yes,
she
is.
For
she
is
credulous
and
good-hearted,
and
she
believes
everything
from
the
goodness
of
her
heart
and... and...
and
she
is
like
that... yes...
You
must
excuse
her," said Sonia,
and
again
she
got
up
to
go. "But
you
haven't
heard
what
I
have
to
say." "No, I haven't heard,"
muttered
Sonia. "Then
sit
down."
She
was
terribly confused;
she
sat
down
again
a
third
time. "Seeing
her
position
with
her
unfortunate
little
ones, I
should
be
glad,
as
I
have
said before,
so
far
as
lies
in
my power,
to
be
of
service,
that
is,
so
far
as
is
in
my power,
not
more.
One
might
for
instance
get
up
a
subscription
for
her,
or
a lottery,
something
of
the
sort,
such
as
is
always
arranged
in
such
cases
by
friends
or
even
outsiders
desirous
of
assisting people.
It
was
of
that
I
intended
to
speak
to
you;
it
might
be
done." "Yes, yes...
God
will
repay
you
for
it,"
faltered
Sonia, gazing
intently
at
Pyotr Petrovitch. "It
might
be,
but
we
will
talk
of
it
later.
We
might
begin
it
to-day,
we
will
talk
it
over
this
evening
and
lay
the
foundation
so
to
speak.
Come
to
me
at
seven
o'clock. Mr. Lebeziatnikov, I hope,
will
assist us.
But
there
is
one
circumstance
of
which
I
ought
to
warn
you
beforehand
and
for
which
I
venture
to
trouble
you, Sofya Semyonovna,
to
come
here.
In
my
opinion
money
cannot be,
indeed
it's unsafe
to
put
it
into
Katerina Ivanovna's
own
hands.
The
dinner
to-day
is
a
proof
of
that.
Though
she
has not,
so
to
speak, a
crust
of
bread
for
to-morrow and... well,
boots
or
shoes,
or
anything;
she
has bought to-day Jamaica rum,
and
even, I believe,
Madeira
and...
and
coffee. I
saw
it
as
I
passed
through. To-morrow
it
will
all
fall
upon
you
again,
they
won't
have
a
crust
of
bread. It's absurd, really,
and
so,
to
my thinking, a
subscription
ought
to
be
raised
so
that
the
unhappy
widow
should
not
know
of
the
money,
but
only
you,
for
instance.
Am
I right?" "I don't know...
this
is
only
to-day,
once
in
her
life....
She
was
so
anxious
to
do
honour,
to
celebrate
the
memory....
And
she
is
very
sensible...
but
just
as
you
think
and
I
shall
be
very, very...
they
will
all
be...
and
God
will
reward...
and
the
orphans..." Sonia
burst
into
tears. "Very well, then,
keep
it
in
mind;
and
now
will
you
accept
for
the
benefit
of
your
relation
the
small
sum
that
I
am
able
to
spare,
from
me
personally. I
am
very
anxious
that
my
name
should
not
be
mentioned
in
connection
with
it. Here...
having
so
to
speak
anxieties
of
my own, I cannot
do
more..."
And
Pyotr Petrovitch
held
out
to
Sonia a ten-rouble
note
carefully
unfolded. Sonia
took
it, flushed crimson, jumped up,
muttered
something
and
began
taking
leave. Pyotr Petrovitch accompanied
her
ceremoniously
to
the
door.
She
got
out
of
the
room
at
last, agitated
and
distressed,
and
returned
to
Katerina Ivanovna, overwhelmed
with
confusion.
All
this
time Lebeziatnikov had stood
at
the
window
or
walked
about
the
room,
anxious
not
to
interrupt
the
conversation;
when
Sonia had gone
he
walked
up
to
Pyotr Petrovitch
and
solemnly
held
out
his
hand. "That's
all
nonsense,"
muttered
Pyotr Petrovitch,
somewhat
disconcerted,
looking
carefully
at
Lebeziatnikov. "Because I don't
want
in
your
free
marriage
to
be
made
a fool
of
and
to
bring
up
another
man's children, that's
why
I
want
legal
marriage," Luzhin replied
in
order
to
make
some
answer.
He
seemed
preoccupied
by
something. "Children?
You
referred
to
children," Lebeziatnikov started
off
like
a warhorse
at
the
trumpet call. "Children
are
a
social
question
and
a
question
of
first
importance, I agree;
but
the
question
of
children has
another
solution.
Some
refuse
to
have
children altogether,
because
they
suggest
the
institution
of
the
family. We'll
speak
of
children later,
but
now
as
to
the
question
of
honour, I
confess
that's my
weak
point.
That
horrid, military, Pushkin
expression
is
unthinkable
in
the
dictionary
of
the
future.
What
does
it
mean
indeed? It's nonsense,
there
will
be
no
deception
in
a
free
marriage!
That
is
only
the
natural
consequence
of
a
legal
marriage,
so
to
say,
its
corrective, a protest.
So
that
indeed
it's
not
humiliating...
and
if
I ever,
to
suppose
an
absurdity,
were
to
be
legally
married, I
should
be
positively
glad
of
it. I
should
say
to
my wife: 'My dear, hitherto I
have
loved
you,
now
I
respect
you,
for
you've shown
you
can
protest!'
You
laugh! That's
because
you
are
incapable
of
getting
away
from
prejudices.
Confound
it
all! I
understand
now
where
the
unpleasantness
is
of
being
deceived
in
a
legal
marriage,
but
it's simply a
despicable
consequence
of
a
despicable
position
in
which
both
are
humiliated.
When
the
deception
is
open,
as
in
a
free
marriage,
then
it
does
not
exist, it's unthinkable.
Your
wife
will
only
prove
how
she
respects
you
by
considering
you
incapable
of
opposing
her
happiness
and
avenging
yourself
on
her
for
her
new
husband.
Damn
it
all! I sometimes
dream
if
I
were
to
be
married, pfoo! I
mean
if
I
were
to
marry,
legally
or
not, it's
just
the
same, I
should
present
my
wife
with
a
lover
if
she
had
not
found
one
for
herself. 'My dear,' I
should
say, 'I
love
you,
but
even
more
than
that
I
desire
you
to
respect
me. See!'
Am
I
not
right?" Pyotr Petrovitch sniggered
as
he
listened,
but
without
much
merriment.
He
hardly
heard
it
indeed.
He
was
preoccupied
with
something
else
and
even
Lebeziatnikov
at
last
noticed it. Pyotr Petrovitch
seemed
excited
and
rubbed
his
hands. Lebeziatnikov
remembered
all
this
and
reflected
upon
it
afterwards.