It
would
be
difficult
to
explain
exactly
what
could
have
originated
the
idea
of
that
senseless
dinner
in
Katerina Ivanovna's disordered brain. Nearly
ten
of
the
twenty
roubles,
given
by
Raskolnikov
for
Marmeladov's funeral,
were
wasted
upon
it. Possibly Katerina Ivanovna felt obliged
to
honour
the
memory
of
the
deceased "suitably,"
that
all
the
lodgers,
and
still
more
Amalia Ivanovna,
might
know
"that
he
was
in
no
way
their
inferior,
and
perhaps
very
much
their
superior,"
and
that
no
one
had
the
right
"to
turn
up
his
nose
at
him."
Perhaps
the
chief
element
was
that
peculiar
"poor man's pride,"
which
compels
many
poor
people
to
spend
their
last
savings
on
some
traditional
social
ceremony, simply
in
order
to
do
"like
other
people,"
and
not
to
"be
looked
down
upon."
It
is
very
probable, too,
that
Katerina Ivanovna
longed
on
this
occasion,
at
the
moment
when
she
seemed
to
be
abandoned
by
everyone,
to
show
those
"wretched
contemptible
lodgers"
that
she
knew
"how
to
do
things,
how
to
entertain"
and
that
she
had been brought
up
"in a genteel,
she
might
almost
say
aristocratic
colonel's family"
and
had
not
been meant
for
sweeping
floors
and
washing
the
children's
rags
at
night.
Even
the
poorest
and
most
broken-spirited
people
are
sometimes
liable
to
these
paroxysms
of
pride
and
vanity
which
take
the
form
of
an
irresistible
nervous
craving.
And
Katerina Ivanovna
was
not
broken-spirited;
she
might
have
been
killed
by
circumstance,
but
her
spirit
could
not
have
been broken,
that
is,
she
could
not
have
been intimidated,
her
will
could
not
be
crushed. Moreover Sonia had said
with
good
reason
that
her
mind
was
unhinged.
She
could
not
be
said
to
be
insane,
but
for
a
year
past
she
had been
so
harassed
that
her
mind
might
well
be
overstrained.
The
later
stages
of
consumption
are
apt, doctors
tell
us,
to
affect
the
intellect. Amalia Ivanovna, too, suddenly acquired
extraordinary
importance
in
Katerina Ivanovna's
eyes
and
was
treated
by
her
with
extraordinary
respect, probably
only
because
Amalia Ivanovna had thrown
herself
heart
and
soul
into
the
preparations.
She
had
undertaken
to
lay
the
table,
to
provide
the
linen, crockery, etc.,
and
to
cook
the
dishes
in
her
kitchen,
and
Katerina Ivanovna had left
it
all
in
her
hands
and
gone
herself
to
the
cemetery. Everything had been
well
done.
Even
the
table-cloth
was
nearly clean;
the
crockery, knives, forks
and
glasses were,
of
course,
of
all
shapes
and
patterns,
lent
by
different
lodgers,
but
the
table
was
properly
laid
at
the
time fixed,
and
Amalia Ivanovna, feeling
she
had
done
her
work
well, had
put
on
a
black
silk
dress
and
a
cap
with
new
mourning
ribbons
and
met
the
returning
party
with
some
pride.
This
pride,
though
justifiable,
displeased
Katerina Ivanovna
for
some
reason: "as
though
the
table
could
not
have
been laid
except
by
Amalia Ivanovna!"
She
disliked
the
cap
with
new
ribbons, too. "Could
she
be
stuck up,
the
stupid
German,
because
she
was
mistress
of
the
house,
and
had
consented
as
a
favour
to
help
her
poor
lodgers!
As
a favour! Fancy that! Katerina Ivanovna's father
who
had been a
colonel
and
almost
a
governor
had sometimes had
the
table
set
for
forty
persons,
and
then
anyone
like
Amalia Ivanovna,
or
rather
Ludwigovna,
would
not
have
been allowed
into
the
kitchen." Katerina Ivanovna, however,
put
off
expressing
her
feelings
for
the
time
and
contented
herself
with
treating
her
coldly,
though
she
decided
inwardly
that
she
would
certainly
have
to
put
Amalia Ivanovna
down
and
set
her
in
her
proper
place,
for
goodness
only
knew
what
she
was
fancying herself. Katerina Ivanovna
was
irritated
too
by
the
fact
that
hardly
any
of
the
lodgers invited had
come
to
the
funeral,
except
the
Pole
who
had
just
managed
to
run
into
the
cemetery,
while
to
the
memorial
dinner
the
poorest
and
most
insignificant
of
them
had
turned
up,
the
wretched creatures,
many
of
them
not
quite
sober.
The
older
and
more
respectable
of
them
all,
as
if
by
common
consent, stayed away. Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin,
for
instance,
who
might
be
said
to
be
the
most
respectable
of
all
the
lodgers,
did
not
appear,
though
Katerina Ivanovna had
the
evening
before
told
all
the
world,
that
is
Amalia Ivanovna, Polenka, Sonia
and
the
Pole,
that
he
was
the
most
generous, noble-hearted
man
with
a
large
property
and
vast
connections,
who
had been a
friend
of
her
first
husband's,
and
a
guest
in
her
father's house,
and
that
he
had
promised
to
use
all
his
influence
to
secure
her
a
considerable
pension.
It
must
be
noted
that
when
Katerina Ivanovna
exalted
anyone's
connections
and
fortune,
it
was
without
any
ulterior
motive,
quite
disinterestedly,
for
the
mere
pleasure
of
adding
to
the
consequence
of
the
person
praised. Probably "taking
his
cue"
from
Luzhin, "that
contemptible
wretch
Lebeziatnikov had
not
turned
up
either.
What
did
he
fancy himself?
He
was
only
asked
out
of
kindness
and
because
he
was
sharing
the
same
room
with
Pyotr Petrovitch
and
was
a
friend
of
his,
so
that
it
would
have
been awkward
not
to
invite him."
Among
those
who
failed
to
appear
were
"the
genteel
lady
and
her
old-maidish daughter,"
who
had
only
been lodgers
in
the
house
for
the
last
fortnight,
but
had
several
times
complained
of
the
noise
and
uproar
in
Katerina Ivanovna's room, especially
when
Marmeladov had
come
back
drunk. Katerina Ivanovna
heard
this
from
Amalia Ivanovna who,
quarrelling
with
Katerina Ivanovna,
and
threatening
to
turn
the
whole
family
out
of
doors, had shouted
at
her
that
they
"were
not
worth
the
foot"
of
the
honourable
lodgers
whom
they
were
disturbing. Katerina Ivanovna determined
now
to
invite
this
lady
and
her
daughter, "whose
foot
she
was
not
worth,"
and
who
had
turned
away
haughtily
when
she
casually
met them,
so
that
they
might
know
that
"she
was
more
noble
in
her
thoughts
and
feelings
and
did
not
harbour
malice,"
and
might
see
that
she
was
not
accustomed
to
her
way
of
living.
She
had
proposed
to
make
this
clear
to
them
at
dinner
with
allusions
to
her
late
father's governorship,
and
also
at
the
same
time
to
hint
that
it
was
exceedingly
stupid
of
them
to
turn
away
on
meeting
her.
The
fat
colonel-major (he
was
really a discharged
officer
of
low
rank)
was
also
absent,
but
it
appeared
that
he
had been "not himself"
for
the
last
two
days.
The
party
consisted
of
the
Pole, a wretched
looking
clerk
with
a spotty face
and
a greasy coat,
who
had
not
a
word
to
say
for
himself,
and
smelt
abominably, a
deaf
and
almost
blind
old
man
who
had
once
been
in
the
post
office
and
who
had been
from
immemorial
ages
maintained
by
someone
at
Amalia Ivanovna's. A retired clerk
of
the
commissariat
department came, too;
he
was
drunk, had a
loud
and
most
unseemly
laugh
and
only
fancy—was
without
a waistcoat!
One
of
the
visitors
sat straight
down
to
the
table
without
even
greeting
Katerina Ivanovna. Finally
one
person
having
no
suit
appeared
in
his
dressing-gown,
but
this
was
too
much,
and
the
efforts
of
Amalia Ivanovna
and
the
Pole
succeeded
in
removing him.
The
Pole brought
with
him, however,
two
other
Poles
who
did
not
live
at
Amalia Ivanovna's
and
whom
no
one
had
seen
here
before.
All
this
irritated
Katerina Ivanovna intensely. "For
whom
had
they
made
all
these
preparations
then?"
To
make
room
for
the
visitors
the
children had
not
even
been laid
for
at
the
table;
but
the
two
little
ones
were
sitting
on
a
bench
in
the
furthest
corner
with
their
dinner
laid
on
a box,
while
Polenka
as
a
big
girl
had
to
look
after
them, feed them,
and
keep
their
noses
wiped
like
well-bred children's. Katerina Ivanovna,
in
fact,
could
hardly
help
meeting
her
guests
with
increased dignity,
and
even
haughtiness.
She
stared
at
some
of
them
with
special
severity,
and
loftily invited
them
to
take
their
seats.
Rushing
to
the
conclusion
that
Amalia Ivanovna
must
be
responsible
for
those
who
were
absent,
she
began treating
her
with
extreme
nonchalance,
which
the
latter
promptly
observed
and
resented.
Such
a
beginning
was
no
good
omen
for
the
end.
All
were
seated
at
last. Raskolnikov came
in
almost
at
the
moment
of
their
return
from
the
cemetery. Katerina Ivanovna
was
greatly
delighted
to
see
him,
in
the
first
place,
because
he
was
the
one
"educated visitor, and,
as
everyone knew,
was
in
two
years
to
take
a professorship
in
the
university,"
and
secondly
because
he
immediately
and
respectfully
apologised
for
having
been
unable
to
be
at
the
funeral.
She
positively
pounced
upon
him,
and
made
him
sit
on
her
left
hand
(Amalia Ivanovna
was
on
her
right).
In
spite
of
her
continual
anxiety
that
the
dishes
should
be
passed
round
correctly
and
that
everyone
should
taste
them,
in
spite
of
the
agonising
cough
which
interrupted
her
every
minute
and
seemed
to
have
grown
worse
during
the
last
few
days,
she
hastened
to
pour
out
in
a
half
whisper
to
Raskolnikov
all
her
suppressed feelings
and
her
just
indignation
at
the
failure
of
the
dinner,
interspersing
her
remarks
with
lively
and
uncontrollable
laughter
at
the
expense
of
her
visitors
and
especially
of
her
landlady.
Here
her
laugh
turned
again
to
an
insufferable fit
of
coughing
that
lasted
five
minutes.
Drops
of
perspiration
stood
out
on
her
forehead
and
her
handkerchief
was
stained
with
blood.
She
showed
Raskolnikov
the
blood
in
silence,
and
as
soon
as
she
could
get
her
breath
began
whispering
to
him
again
with
extreme
animation
and
a
hectic
flush
on
her
cheeks. "Do
you
know, I gave
her
the
most
delicate
instructions,
so
to
speak,
for
inviting
that
lady
and
her
daughter,
you
understand
of
whom
I
am
speaking?
It
needed
the
utmost
delicacy,
the
greatest nicety,
but
she
has
managed
things
so
that
that
fool,
that
conceited baggage,
that
provincial nonentity, simply
because
she
is
the
widow
of
a major,
and
has
come
to
try
and
get
a
pension
and
to
fray
out
her
skirts
in
the
government
offices,
because
at
fifty
she
paints
her
face (everybody
knows
it)... a
creature
like
that
did
not
think
fit
to
come,
and
has
not
even
answered
the
invitation,
which
the
most
ordinary
good
manners required! I can't
understand
why
Pyotr Petrovitch has
not
come?
But
where's Sonia?
Where
has
she
gone? Ah,
there
she
is
at
last!
what
is
it, Sonia,
where
have
you
been? It's
odd
that
even
at
your
father's funeral
you
should
be
so
unpunctual. Rodion Romanovitch,
make
room
for
her
beside
you. That's
your
place, Sonia...
take
what
you
like.
Have
some
of
the
cold entrée
with
jelly, that's
the
best. They'll
bring
the
pancakes directly.
Have
they
given
the
children some? Polenka,
have
you
got everything? (Cough-cough-cough.) That's
all
right.
Be
a
good
girl, Lida, and, Kolya, don't
fidget
with
your
feet;
sit
like
a
little
gentleman.
What
are
you
saying, Sonia?" Sonia
knew
that
this
would
comfort
Katerina Ivanovna,
would
flatter
her
and
gratify
her
pride.
She
sat
down
beside
Raskolnikov;
she
made
him
a hurried bow, glancing
curiously
at
him.
But
for
the
rest
of
the
time
she
seemed
to
avoid
looking
at
him
or
speaking
to
him.
She
seemed
absent-minded,
though
she
kept
looking
at
Katerina Ivanovna, trying
to
please
her.
Neither
she
nor
Katerina Ivanovna had been
able
to
get
mourning; Sonia
was
wearing dark brown,
and
Katerina Ivanovna had
on
her
only
dress, a dark
striped
cotton
one.
The
message
from
Pyotr Petrovitch
was
very
successful.
Listening
to
Sonia
with
dignity, Katerina Ivanovna
inquired
with
equal
dignity
how
Pyotr Petrovitch was,
then
at
once
whispered
almost
aloud
to
Raskolnikov
that
it
certainly
would
have
been
strange
for
a
man
of
Pyotr Petrovitch's position
and
standing
to
find
himself
in
such
"extraordinary company,"
in
spite
of
his
devotion
to
her
family
and
his
old
friendship
with
her
father. "That's
why
I
am
so
grateful
to
you, Rodion Romanovitch,
that
you
have
not
disdained
my hospitality,
even
in
such
surroundings,"
she
added
almost
aloud. "But I
am
sure
that
it
was
only
your
special
affection
for
my
poor
husband
that
has
made
you
keep
your
promise."
Then
once
more
with
pride
and
dignity
she
scanned
her
visitors,
and
suddenly
inquired
aloud
across
the
table
of
the
deaf
man: "Wouldn't
he
have
some
more
meat,
and
had
he
been
given
some
wine?"
The
old
man
made
no
answer
and
for
a
long
while
could
not
understand
what
he
was
asked,
though
his
neighbours
amused
themselves
by
poking
and
shaking him.
He
simply gazed
about
him
with
his
mouth
open,
which
only
increased
the
general
mirth. "What
an
imbecile! Look, look!
Why
was
he
brought?
But
as
to
Pyotr Petrovitch, I
always
had
confidence
in
him," Katerina Ivanovna continued, "and,
of
course,
he
is
not
like..."
with
an
extremely stern face
she
addressed
Amalia Ivanovna
so
sharply
and
loudly
that
the
latter
was
quite
disconcerted, "not
like
your
dressed
up
draggletails
whom
my father
would
not
have
taken
as
cooks
into
his
kitchen,
and
my
late
husband
would
have
done
them
honour
if
he
had invited
them
in
the
goodness
of
his
heart." "Yes,
he
was
fond
of
drink,
he
was
fond
of
it,
he
did
drink!" cried
the
commissariat
clerk,
gulping
down
his
twelfth
glass
of
vodka. "My
late
husband certainly had
that
weakness,
and
everyone
knows
it," Katerina Ivanovna
attacked
him
at
once, "but
he
was
a
kind
and
honourable
man,
who
loved
and
respected
his
family.
The
worst
of
it
was
his
good
nature
made
him
trust
all
sorts
of
disreputable people,
and
he
drank
with
fellows
who
were
not
worth
the
sole
of
his
shoe.
Would
you
believe
it, Rodion Romanovitch,
they
found a
gingerbread
cock
in
his
pocket;
he
was
dead
drunk,
but
he
did
not
forget
the
children!" "A cock?
Did
you
say
a cock?" shouted
the
commissariat
clerk. Katerina Ivanovna
did
not
vouchsafe a reply.
She
sighed, lost
in
thought. "No
doubt
you
think,
like
everyone,
that
I
was
too
severe
with
him,"
she
went on,
addressing
Raskolnikov. "But that's
not
so!
He
respected
me,
he
respected
me
very
much!
He
was
a kind-hearted man!
And
how
sorry
I
was
for
him
sometimes!
He
would
sit
in
a
corner
and
look
at
me, I used
to
feel
so
sorry
for
him, I used
to
want
to
be
kind
to
him
and
then
would
think
to
myself: 'Be
kind
to
him
and
he
will
drink
again,'
it
was
only
by
severity
that
you
could
keep
him
within
bounds." "Yes,
he
used
to
get
his
hair
pulled
pretty often,"
roared
the
commissariat
clerk again,
swallowing
another
glass
of
vodka. "Some fools
would
be
the
better
for
a
good
drubbing,
as
well
as
having
their
hair
pulled. I
am
not
talking
of
my
late
husband now!" Katerina Ivanovna snapped
at
him.
The
flush
on
her
cheeks
grew
more
and
more
marked,
her
chest
heaved.
In
another
minute
she
would
have
been
ready
to
make
a scene.
Many
of
the
visitors
were
sniggering, evidently delighted.
They
began
poking
the
commissariat
clerk
and
whispering
something
to
him.
They
were
evidently trying
to
egg
him
on. "Allow
me
to
ask
what
are
you
alluding
to," began
the
clerk, "that
is
to
say, whose...
about
whom...
did
you
say
just
now...
But
I don't care! That's nonsense! Widow! I
forgive
you.... Pass!"
And
he
took
another
drink
of
vodka. "Listen
to
the
owl!" Katerina Ivanovna whispered
at
once,
her
good-humour
almost
restored, "she meant
to
say
he
kept
his
hands
in
his
pockets,
but
she
said
he
put
his
hands
in
people's pockets. (Cough-cough.)
And
have
you
noticed, Rodion Romanovitch,
that
all
these
Petersburg foreigners,
the
Germans
especially,
are
all
stupider
than
we!
Can
you
fancy
anyone
of
us
telling
how
'Karl
from
the
chemist's' 'pierced
his
heart
from
fear'
and
that
the
idiot,
instead
of
punishing
the
cabman, 'clasped
his
hands
and
wept,
and
much
begged.' Ah,
the
fool!
And
you
know
she
fancies it's
very
touching
and
does
not
suspect
how
stupid
she
is!
To
my
thinking
that
drunken
commissariat
clerk
is
a
great
deal
cleverer,
anyway
one
can
see
that
he
has
addled
his
brains
with
drink,
but
you
know,
these
foreigners
are
always
so
well
behaved
and
serious....
Look
how
she
sits
glaring!
She
is
angry, ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.)"
Warming
up, Katerina Ivanovna
proceeded
to
enlarge
on
the
peaceful
and
happy
life
they
would
lead
in
T——,
on
the
gymnasium
teachers
whom
she
would
engage
to
give
lessons
in
her
boarding-school,
one
a
most
respectable
old
Frenchman,
one
Mangot,
who
had
taught
Katerina Ivanovna
herself
in
old
days
and
was
still
living
in
T——,
and
would
no
doubt
teach
in
her
school
on
moderate terms.
Next
she
spoke
of
Sonia
who
would
go
with
her
to
T——
and
help
her
in
all
her
plans.
At
this
someone
at
the
further
end
of
the
table gave a
sudden
guffaw.
Though
Katerina Ivanovna tried
to
appear
to
be
disdainfully unaware
of
it,
she
raised
her
voice
and
began
at
once
speaking
with
conviction
of
Sonia's undoubted
ability
to
assist her,
of
"her gentleness, patience, devotion,
generosity
and
good
education,"
tapping
Sonia
on
the
cheek
and
kissing
her
warmly twice. Sonia flushed crimson,
and
Katerina Ivanovna suddenly
burst
into
tears, immediately
observing
that
she
was
"nervous
and
silly,
that
she
was
too
much
upset,
that
it
was
time
to
finish,
and
as
the
dinner
was
over,
it
was
time
to
hand
round
the
tea." Katerina Ivanovna
observed
contemptuously
that
all
knew
what
her
family
was
and
that
on
that
very
certificate
of
honour
it
was
stated
in
print
that
her
father
was
a colonel,
while
Amalia Ivanovna's father—if
she
really had one—was probably
some
Finnish milkman,
but
that
probably
she
never
had a father
at
all,
since
it
was
still
uncertain
whether
her
name
was
Amalia Ivanovna
or
Amalia Ludwigovna.
At
that
minute
the
door
opened,
and
Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin
appeared
on
the
threshold.
He
stood scanning
the
party
with
severe
and
vigilant
eyes. Katerina Ivanovna
rushed
to
him.