"I have. Luzhin
charged
you
with
having
caused
the
death
of
a child.
Is
that
true?" "Don't
refer
to
those
vulgar
tales, I beg," said Svidrigaďlov
with
disgust
and
annoyance. "If
you
insist
on
wanting
to
know
about
all
that
idiocy, I
will
tell
you
one
day,
but
now..." "I
was
told
too
about
some
footman
of
yours
in
the
country
whom
you
treated badly." "I
beg
you
to
drop
the
subject," Svidrigaďlov interrupted
again
with
obvious
impatience. "Was
that
the
footman
who
came
to
you
after
death
to
fill
your
pipe?...
you
told
me
about
it
yourself." Raskolnikov felt
more
and
more
irritated. Svidrigaďlov
looked
at
him
attentively
and
Raskolnikov fancied
he
caught
a flash
of
spiteful
mockery
in
that
look.
But
Svidrigaďlov restrained
himself
and
answered
very
civilly: Svidrigaďlov struck
the
table
with
his
fist
impatiently.
He
was
flushed. Raskolnikov
saw
clearly
that
the
glass
or
glass
and
a
half
of
champagne
that
he
had
sipped
almost
unconsciously
was
affecting him—and
he
resolved
to
take
advantage
of
the
opportunity.
He
felt
very
suspicious
of
Svidrigaďlov. "Well,
after
what
you
have
said, I
am
fully
convinced
that
you
have
come
to
Petersburg
with
designs
on
my sister,"
he
said directly
to
Svidrigaďlov,
in
order
to
irritate
him
further. "Oh, nonsense," said Svidrigaďlov, seeming
to
rouse
himself. "Why, I
told
you... besides
your
sister
can't
endure
me." "Yes, I
am
certain
that
she
can't,
but
that's
not
the
point." "Are
you
so
sure
that
she
can't?" Svidrigaďlov screwed
up
his
eyes
and
smiled
mockingly. "You
are
right,
she
doesn't
love
me,
but
you
can
never
be
sure
of
what
has
passed
between
husband
and
wife
or
lover
and
mistress. There's
always
a
little
corner
which
remains
a
secret
to
the
world
and
is
only
known
to
those
two.
Will
you
answer
for
it
that
Avdotya Romanovna
regarded
me
with
aversion?" "From
some
words
you've dropped, I notice
that
you
still
have
designs—and
of
course
evil
ones—on Dounia
and
mean
to
carry
them
out
promptly." "What,
have
I
dropped
words
like
that?" Svidrigaďlov
asked
in
naďve dismay,
taking
not
the
slightest notice
of
the
epithet
bestowed
on
his
designs. "Why,
you
are
dropping
them
even
now.
Why
are
you
so
frightened?
What
are
you
so
afraid
of
now?"
He
snatched
up
the
champagne
bottle
and
flung
it
without
ceremony
out
of
the
window.
Philip
brought
the
water. "That's
all
nonsense!" said Svidrigaďlov,
wetting
a
towel
and
putting
it
to
his
head. "But I
can
answer
you
in
one
word
and
annihilate
all
your
suspicions.
Do
you
know
that
I
am
going
to
get
married?" "You
told
me
so
before." "Did I? I've forgotten.
But
I couldn't
have
told
you
so
for
certain
for
I had
not
even
seen
my betrothed; I
only
meant to.
But
now
I really
have
a betrothed
and
it's a settled thing,
and
if
it
weren't
that
I
have
business
that
can't
be
put
off, I
would
have
taken
you
to
see
them
at
once,
for
I
should
like
to
ask
your
advice. Ach,
hang
it,
only
ten
minutes
left! See,
look
at
the
watch.
But
I
must
tell
you,
for
it's
an
interesting story, my marriage,
in
its
own
way.
Where
are
you
off
to? Going again?" "No, I'm
not
going
away
now." "The
fact
is
this
monstrous
difference
in
age
and
development
excites
your
sensuality!
Will
you
really
make
such
a marriage?" "Why,
of
course. Everyone
thinks
of
himself,
and
he
lives
most
gaily
who
knows
best
how
to
deceive
himself. Ha-ha!
But
why
are
you
so
keen
about
virtue?
Have
mercy
on
me, my
good
friend. I
am
a
sinful
man. Ha-ha-ha!" "But
you
have
provided
for
the
children
of
Katerina Ivanovna. Though...
though
you
had
your
own
reasons.... I
understand
it
all
now." "Stop!
Enough
of
your
vile,
nasty
anecdotes,
depraved
vile,
sensual
man!" "I
dare
say. I
can
see
I
am
ridiculous
myself,"
muttered
Raskolnikov angrily. Svidrigaďlov laughed heartily; finally
he
called
Philip, paid
his
bill,
and
began
getting
up. "I
should
rather
think
it
must
be
a pleasure!" cried Raskolnikov,
getting
up. "No
doubt
it
is
a pleasure
for
a worn-out
profligate
to
describe
such
adventures
with
a
monstrous
project
of
the
same
sort
in
his
mind—especially
under
such
circumstances
and
to
such
a
man
as
me.... It's stimulating!" "Well,
if
you
come
to
that," Svidrigaďlov answered,
scrutinising
Raskolnikov
with
some
surprise, "if
you
come
to
that,
you
are
a
thorough
cynic
yourself. You've
plenty
to
make
you
so, anyway.
You
can
understand
a
great
deal...
and
you
can
do
a
great
deal
too.
But
enough. I sincerely
regret
not
having
had
more
talk
with
you,
but
I shan't
lose
sight
of
you....
Only
wait
a bit." Svidrigaďlov walked
out
of
the
restaurant. Raskolnikov walked
out
after
him. Svidrigaďlov
was
not
however
very
drunk,
the
wine had affected
him
for
a moment,
but
it
was
passing
off
every
minute.
He
was
preoccupied
with
something
of
importance
and
was
frowning.
He
was
apparently excited
and
uneasy
in
anticipation
of
something.
His
manner
to
Raskolnikov had
changed
during
the
last
few
minutes,
and
he
was
ruder
and
more
sneering
every
moment. Raskolnikov noticed
all
this,
and
he
too
was
uneasy.
He
became
very
suspicious
of
Svidrigaďlov
and
resolved
to
follow
him.
They
came
out
on
to
the
pavement.
And
he
walked
to
the
right
towards
the
Hay
Market.