Prestuplenie i nakazanie. English by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
CHAPTER II
Raskolnikov was not used to crowds, and, as we said before, he avoidedsociety of every sort, more especially of late. But now all at once hefelt a desire to be with other people. Something new seemed to be takingplace within him, and with it he felt a sort of thirst for company. Hewas so weary after a whole month of concentrated wretchedness and gloomyexcitement that he longed to rest, if only for a moment, in some otherworld, whatever it might be; and, in spite of the filthiness of thesurroundings, he was glad now to stay in the tavern.
The master of the establishment was in another room, but he frequentlycame down some steps into the main room, his jaunty, tarred boots withred turn-over tops coming into view each time before the rest of hisperson. He wore a full coat and a horribly greasy black satin waistcoat,with no cravat, and his whole face seemed smeared with oil like aniron lock. At the counter stood a boy of about fourteen, and there wasanother boy somewhat younger who handed whatever was wanted. On thecounter lay some sliced cucumber, some pieces of dried black bread, andsome fish, chopped up small, all smelling very bad. It was insufferablyclose, and so heavy with the fumes of spirits that five minutes in suchan atmosphere might well make a man drunk.
There are chance meetings with strangers that interest us from thefirst moment, before a word is spoken. Such was the impression made onRaskolnikov by the person sitting a little distance from him, who lookedlike a retired clerk. The young man often recalled this impressionafterwards, and even ascribed it to presentiment. He looked repeatedlyat the clerk, partly no doubt because the latter was staringpersistently at him, obviously anxious to enter into conversation. Atthe other persons in the room, including the tavern-keeper, the clerklooked as though he were used to their company, and weary of it, showinga shade of condescending contempt for them as persons of station andculture inferior to his own, with whom it would be useless for him toconverse. He was a man over fifty, bald and grizzled, of medium height,and stoutly built. His face, bloated from continual drinking, was ofa yellow, even greenish, tinge, with swollen eyelids out of which keenreddish eyes gleamed like little chinks. But there was something verystrange in him; there was a light in his eyes as though of intensefeeling--perhaps there were even thought and intelligence, but at thesame time there was a gleam of something like madness. He was wearing anold and hopelessly ragged black dress coat, with all its buttons missingexcept one, and that one he had buttoned, evidently clinging to thislast trace of respectability. A crumpled shirt front, covered with spotsand stains, protruded from his canvas waistcoat. Like a clerk, he woreno beard, nor moustache, but had been so long unshaven that his chinlooked like a stiff greyish brush. And there was something respectableand like an official about his manner too. But he was restless; heruffled up his hair and from time to time let his head drop into hishands dejectedly resting his ragged elbows on the stained and stickytable. At last he looked straight at Raskolnikov, and said loudly andresolutely:
"May I venture, honoured sir, to engage you in polite conversation?Forasmuch as, though your exterior would not command respect, myexperience admonishes me that you are a man of education and notaccustomed to drinking. I have always respected education when inconjunction with genuine sentiments, and I am besides a titularcounsellor in rank. Marmeladov--such is my name; titular counsellor. Imake bold to inquire--have you been in the service?"
"No, I am studying," answered the young man, somewhat surprised atthe grandiloquent style of the speaker and also at being so directlyaddressed. In spite of the momentary desire he had just been feeling forcompany of any sort, on being actually spoken to he felt immediately hishabitual irritable and uneasy aversion for any stranger who approachedor attempted to approach him.
"A student then, or formerly a student," cried the clerk. "Just whatI thought! I'm a man of experience, immense experience, sir," and hetapped his forehead with his fingers in self-approval. "You've been astudent or have attended some learned institution!... But allow me...."He got up, staggered, took up his jug and glass, and sat down besidethe young man, facing him a little sideways. He was drunk, but spokefluently and boldly, only occasionally losing the thread of hissentences and drawling his words. He pounced upon Raskolnikov asgreedily as though he too had not spoken to a soul for a month.
"Honoured sir," he began almost with solemnity, "poverty is not a vice,that's a true saying. Yet I know too that drunkenness is not a virtue,and that that's even truer. But beggary, honoured sir, beggary is avice. In poverty you may still retain your innate nobility of soul, butin beggary--never--no one. For beggary a man is not chased out of humansociety with a stick, he is swept out with a broom, so as to make it ashumiliating as possible; and quite right, too, forasmuch as in beggaryI am ready to be the first to humiliate myself. Hence the pot-house!Honoured sir, a month ago Mr. Lebeziatnikov gave my wife a beating, andmy wife is a very different matter from me! Do you understand? Allow meto ask you another question out of simple curiosity: have you ever spenta night on a hay barge, on the Neva?"
"No, I have not happened to," answered Raskolnikov. "What do you mean?"
"Well, I've just come from one and it's the fifth night I've sleptso...." He filled his glass, emptied it and paused. Bits of hay were infact clinging to his clothes and sticking to his hair. It seemed quiteprobable that he had not undressed or washed for the last five days.His hands, particularly, were filthy. They were fat and red, with blacknails.
His conversation seemed to excite a general though languid interest. Theboys at the counter fell to sniggering. The innkeeper came down from theupper room, apparently on purpose to listen to the "funny fellow"and sat down at a little distance, yawning lazily, but with dignity.Evidently Marmeladov was a familiar figure here, and he had mostlikely acquired his weakness for high-flown speeches from the habit offrequently entering into conversation with strangers of all sorts inthe tavern. This habit develops into a necessity in some drunkards, andespecially in those who are looked after sharply and kept in orderat home. Hence in the company of other drinkers they try to justifythemselves and even if possible obtain consideration.
"Funny fellow!" pronounced the innkeeper. "And why don't you work, whyaren't you at your duty, if you are in the service?"
"Why am I not at my duty, honoured sir," Marmeladov went on, addressinghimself exclusively to Raskolnikov, as though it had been he who putthat question to him. "Why am I not at my duty? Does not my heart acheto think what a useless worm I am? A month ago when Mr. Lebeziatnikovbeat my wife with his own hands, and I lay drunk, didn't I suffer?Excuse me, young man, has it ever happened to you... hm... well, topetition hopelessly for a loan?"
"Yes, it has. But what do you mean by hopelessly?"
"Hopelessly in the fullest sense, when you know beforehand that youwill get nothing by it. You know, for instance, beforehand with positivecertainty that this man, this most reputable and exemplary citizen, willon no consideration give you money; and indeed I ask you why should he?For he knows of course that I shan't pay it back. From compassion? ButMr. Lebeziatnikov who keeps up with modern ideas explained the other daythat compassion is forbidden nowadays by science itself, and that that'swhat is done now in England, where there is political economy. Why, Iask you, should he give it to me? And yet though I know beforehand thathe won't, I set off to him and..."
"Why do you go?" put in Raskolnikov.
"Well, when one has no one, nowhere else one can go! For every man musthave somewhere to go. Since there are times when one absolutely mustgo somewhere! When my own daughter first went out with a yellow ticket,then I had to go... (for my daughter has a yellow passport)," he addedin parenthesis, looking with a certain uneasiness at the young man."No matter, sir, no matter!" he went on hurriedly and with apparentcomposure when both the boys at the counter guffawed and even theinnkeeper smiled--"No matter, I am not confounded by the wagging oftheir heads; for everyone knows everything about it already, and allthat is secret is made open. And I accept it all, not with contempt, butwith humility. So be it! So be
The young man did not answer a word.
"Well," the orator began again stolidly and with even increased dignity,after waiting for the laughter in the room to subside. "Well, so beit, I am a pig, but she is a lady! I have the semblance of a beast, butKaterina Ivanovna, my spouse, is a person of education and an officer'sdaughter. Granted, granted, I am a scoundrel, but she is a woman of anoble heart, full of sentiments, refined by education. And yet... oh,if only she felt for me! Honoured sir, honoured sir, you know every manought to have at least one place where people feel for him! But KaterinaIvanovna, though she is magnanimous, she is unjust.... And yet, althoughI realise that when she pulls my hair she only does it out of pity--forI repeat without being ashamed, she pulls my hair, young man," hedeclared with redoubled dignity, hearing the sniggering again--"but, myGod, if she would but once.... But no, no! It's all in vain and it's nouse talking! No use talking! For more than once, my wish did come trueand more than once she has felt for me but... such is my fate and I am abeast by nature!"
"Rather!" assented the innkeeper yawning. Marmeladov struck his fistresolutely on the table.
"Such is my fate! Do you know, sir, do you know, I have sold her verystockings for drink? Not her shoes--that would be more or less in theorder of things, but her stockings, her stockings I have sold for drink!Her mohair shawl I sold for drink, a present to her long ago, her ownproperty, not mine; and we live in a cold room and she caught cold thiswinter and has begun coughing and spitting blood too. We have threelittle children and Katerina Ivanovna is at work from morning tillnight; she is scrubbing and cleaning and washing the children, for she'sbeen used to cleanliness from a child. But her chest is weak and she hasa tendency to consumption and I feel it! Do you suppose I don't feel it?And the more I drink the more I feel it. That's why I drink too. I tryto find sympathy and feeling in drink.... I drink so that I may suffertwice as much!" And as though in despair he laid his head down on thetable.
"Young man," he went on, raising his head again, "in your face I seem toread some trouble of mind. When you came in I read it, and that was whyI addressed you at once. For in unfolding to you the story of my life, Ido not wish to make myself a laughing-stock before these idle listeners,who indeed know all about it already, but I am looking for a manof feeling and education. Know then that my wife was educated in ahigh-class school for the daughters of noblemen, and on leaving shedanced the shawl dance before the governor and other personages forwhich she was presented with a gold medal and a certificate of merit.The medal... well, the medal of course was sold--long ago, hm... but thecertificate of merit is in her trunk still and not long ago she showedit to our landlady. And although she is most continually on bad termswith the landlady, yet she wanted to tell someone or other of her pasthonours and of the happy days that are gone. I don't condemn her forit, I don't blame her, for the one thing left her is recollection ofthe past, and all the rest is dust and ashes. Yes, yes, she is a ladyof spirit, proud and determined. She scrubs the floors herself and hasnothing but black bread to eat, but won't allow herself to be treatedwith disrespect. That's why she would not overlook Mr. Lebeziatnikov'srudeness to her, and so when he gave her a beating for it, she took toher bed more from the hurt to her feelings than from the blows. She wasa widow when I married her, with three children, one smaller than theother. She married her first husband, an infantry officer, for love, andran away with him from her father's house. She was exceedingly fond ofher husband; but he gave way to cards, got into trouble and with that hedied. He used to beat her at the end: and although she paid him back, ofwhich I have authentic documentary evidence, to this day she speaks ofhim with tears and she throws him up to me; and I am glad, I am gladthat, though only in imagination, she should think of herself as havingonce been happy.... And she was left at his death with three children ina wild and remote district where I happened to be at the time; and shewas left in such hopeless poverty that, although I have seen many upsand downs of all sort, I don't feel equal to describing it even. Herrelations had all thrown her off. And she was proud, too, excessivelyproud.... And then, honoured sir, and then, I, being at the time awidower, with a daughter of fourteen left me by my first wife, offeredher my hand, for I could not bear the sight of such suffering. You canjudge the extremity of her calamities, that she, a woman of educationand culture and distinguished family, should have consented to be mywife. But she did! Weeping and sobbing and wringing her hands, shemarried me! For she had nowhere to turn! Do you understand, sir, do youunderstand what it means when you have absolutely nowhere to turn? No,that you don't understand yet.... And for a whole year, I performedmy duties conscientiously and faithfully, and did not touch this" (hetapped the jug with his finger), "for I have feelings. But even so, Icould not please her; and then I lost my place too, and that through nofault of mine but through changes in the office; and then I did touchit!... It will be a year and a half ago soon since we found ourselves atlast after many wanderings and numerous calamities in this magnificentcapital, adorned with innumerable monuments. Here I obtained asituation.... I obtained it and I lost it again. Do you understand? Thistime it was through my own fault I lost it: for my weakness had comeout.... We have now part of a room at Amalia Fyodorovna Lippevechsel's;and what we live upon and what we pay our rent with, I could not say.There are a lot of people living there besides ourselves. Dirt anddisorder, a perfect Bedlam... hm... yes... And meanwhile my daughter bymy first wife has grown up; and what my daughter has had to put up withfrom her step-mother whilst she was growing up, I won't speak of. For,though Katerina Ivanovna is full of generous feelings, she is a spiritedlady, irritable and short-tempered.... Yes. But it's no use going overthat! Sonia, as you may well fancy, has had no education. I did make aneffort four years ago to give her a course of geography and universalhistory, but as I was not very well up in those subjects myself and wehad no suitable books, and what books we had... hm, anyway we have noteven those now, so all our instruction came to an end. We stopped atCyrus of Persia. Since she has attained years of maturity, she has readother books of romantic tendency and of late she had read with greatinterest a book she got through Mr. Lebeziatnikov, Lewes' Physiology--doyou know it?--and even recounted extracts from it to us: and that's thewhole of her education. And now may I venture to address you, honouredsir, on my own account with a private question. Do you suppose thata respectable poor girl can earn much by honest work? Not fifteenfarthings a day can she earn, if she is respectable and has no specialtalent and that without putting her work down for an instant! And what'smore, Ivan Ivanitch Klopstock the civil counsellor--have you heard ofhim?--has not to this day paid her for the half-dozen linen shirts shemade him and drove her roughly away, stamping and reviling her, on thepretext that the shirt collars were not made like the pattern and wereput in askew. And there are the little ones hungry.... And KaterinaIvanovna walking up and down and wringing her hands, her cheeks flushedred, as they always are in that disease: 'Here you live with us,' saysshe, 'you eat and drink and are kept warm and you do nothing to help.'And much she gets to eat and drink when there is not a crust for thelittle ones for three days! I was lying at the time... well, what ofit! I was lying drunk and I heard my Sonia speaking (she is a gentlecreature with a soft little voice... fair hair and such a pale, thinlittle face). She said: 'Katerina Ivanovna, am I really to do a thinglike that?' And Darya Frantsovna, a woman of evil character and verywell known to the police, had two or three times tried to get at herthrough the landlady. 'And why not?' said Katerina Ivanovna with a jeer,'you are something mighty precious to be so careful of!' But don't blameher, don't blame her, honoured sir, don't blame her! She was not herselfwhen she spoke, but driven to distraction by her illness and the cryingof the hungry children; and it was said more to wound her than anythingelse.... For that's Katerina Ivanovna's character, and when childrencry, eve
Marmeladov stopped short, as though his voice had failed him. Then hehurriedly filled his glass, drank, and cleared his throat.
"Since then, sir," he went on after a brief pause--"Since then, owingto an unfortunate occurrence and through information given byevil-intentioned persons--in all which Darya Frantsovna took aleading part on the pretext that she had been treated with want ofrespect--since then my daughter Sofya Semyonovna has been forced to takea yellow ticket, and owing to that she is unable to go on living withus. For our landlady, Amalia Fyodorovna would not hear of it (thoughshe had backed up Darya Frantsovna before) and Mr. Lebeziatnikov too...hm.... All the trouble between him and Katerina Ivanovna was on Sonia'saccount. At first he was for making up to Sonia himself and then all ofa sudden he stood on his dignity: 'how,' said he, 'can a highly educatedman like me live in the same rooms with a girl like that?' And KaterinaIvanovna would not let it pass, she stood up for her... and so that'show it happened. And Sonia comes to us now, mostly after dark; shecomforts Katerina Ivanovna and gives her all she can.... She has a roomat the Kapernaumovs' the tailors, she lodges with them; Kapernaumov isa lame man with a cleft palate and all of his numerous family have cleftpalates too. And his wife, too, has a cleft palate. They all live in oneroom, but Sonia has her own, partitioned off.... Hm... yes... very poorpeople and all with cleft palates... yes. Then I got up in the morning,and put on my rags, lifted up my hands to heaven and set off to hisexcellency Ivan Afanasyvitch. His excellency Ivan Afanasyvitch, do youknow him? No? Well, then, it's a man of God you don't know. He is wax...wax before the face of the Lord; even as wax melteth!... His eyes weredim when he heard my story. 'Marmeladov, once already you havedeceived my expectations... I'll take you once more on my ownresponsibility'--that's what he said, 'remember,' he said, 'and now youcan go.' I kissed the dust at his feet--in thought only, for in realityhe would not have allowed me to do it, being a statesman and a man ofmodern political and enlightened ideas. I returned home, and when Iannounced that I'd been taken back into the service and should receive asalary, heavens, what a to-do there was!..."
Marmeladov stopped again in violent excitement. At that moment a wholeparty of revellers already drunk came in from the street, and the soundsof a hired concertina and the cracked piping voice of a child of sevensinging "The Hamlet" were heard in the entry. The room was filled withnoise. The tavern-keeper and the boys were busy with the new-comers.Marmeladov paying no attention to the new arrivals continued his story.He appeared by now to be extremely weak, but as he became more and moredrunk, he became more and more talkative. The recollection of hisrecent success in getting the situation seemed to revive him, and waspositively reflected in a sort of radiance on his face. Raskolnikovlistened attentively.
"That was five weeks ago, sir. Yes.... As soon as Katerina Ivanovnaand Sonia heard of it, mercy on us, it was as though I stepped into thekingdom of Heaven. It used to be: you can lie like a beast, nothing butabuse. Now they were walking on tiptoe, hushing the children. 'SemyonZaharovitch is tired with his work at the office, he is resting, shh!'They made me coffee before I went to work and boiled cream for me! Theybegan to get real cream for me, do you hear that? And how they managedto get together the money for a decent outfit--eleven roubles, fiftycopecks, I can't guess. Boots, cotton shirt-fronts--most magnificent,a uniform, they got up all in splendid style, for eleven roubles anda half. The first morning I came back from the office I found KaterinaIvanovna had cooked two courses for dinner--soup and salt meat withhorse radish--which we had never dreamed of till then. She had not anydresses... none at all, but she got herself up as though she were goingon a visit; and not that she'd anything to do it with, she smartenedherself up with nothing at all, she'd done her hair nicely, put on aclean collar of some sort, cuffs, and there she was, quite a differentperson, she was younger and better looking. Sonia, my little darling,had only helped with money 'for the time,' she said, 'it won't do for meto come and see you too often. After dark maybe when no one can see.' Doyou hear, do you hear? I lay down for a nap after dinner and what do youthink: though Katerina Ivanovna had quarrelled to the last degree withour landlady Amalia Fyodorovna only a week before, she could notresist then asking her in to coffee. For two hours they were sitting,whispering together. 'Semyon Zaharovitch is in the service again,now, and receiving a salary,' says she, 'and he went himself to hisexcellency and his excellency himself came out to him, made all theothers wait and led Semyon Zaharovitch by the hand before everybody intohis study.' Do you hear, do you hear? 'To be sure,' says he, 'SemyonZaharovitch, remembering your past services,' says he, 'and in spiteof your propensity to that foolish weakness, since you promise now andsince moreover we've got on badly without you,' (do you hear, do youhear;) 'and so,' says he, 'I rely now on your word as a gentleman.' Andall that, let me tell you, she has simply made up for herself, and notsimply out of wantonness, for the sake of bragging; no, she believes itall herself, she amuses herself with her own fancies, upon my word shedoes! And I don't blame her for it, no, I don't blame her!... Six daysago when I brought her my first earnings in full--twenty-three roublesforty copecks altogether--she called me her poppet: 'poppet,' said she,'my little poppet.' And when we were by ourselves, you understand?You would not think me a beauty, you would not think much of me as ahusband, would you?... Well, she pinched my cheek, 'my little poppet,'said she."
Marmeladov broke off, tried to smile, but suddenly his chin beganto twitch. He controlled himself however. The tavern, the degradedappearance of the man, the five nights in the hay barge, and the pot ofspirits, and yet this poignant love for his wife and children bewilderedhis listener. Raskolnikov listened intently but with a sick sensation.He felt vexed that he had come here.
"Honoured sir, honoured sir," cried Marmeladov recovering himself--"Oh,sir, perhaps all this seems a laughing matter to you, as it does toothers, and perhaps I am only worrying you with the stupidity of all thetrivial details of my home life, but it is not a laughing matter to me.For I can feel it all.... And the whole of that heavenly day of my lifeand the whole of that evening I passed in fleeting dreams of how I wouldarrange it all, and how I would dress all the children, and how I shouldgive her rest, and how I should rescue my own daughter from dishonourand restore her to the bosom of her family.... And a great deal more....Quite excusable, sir. Well, then, sir" (Marmeladov suddenly gave a sortof start, raised his head and gazed intently at his listener) "well, onthe very next day after all those dreams, that is to say, exactly fivedays ago, in the evening, by a cunning trick, like a thief in the night,I stole from Katerina Ivanovna the key of her box, took out what wasleft of my earnings, how much it was I have forgotten, and now lookat me, all of you! It's the fifth day since I left home, and they arelooking for me there and it's the end of my employment, and my uniformis lying in a tavern on the Egyptian bridge. I exchanged it for thegarments I have on... and it's the end of everything!"
Marmeladov struck his forehead with his fist, clenched his teeth, closedhis eyes and leaned heavily with his elbow on the table. But a minutelater his face suddenly changed and with a certain assumed slyness andaffectation of bravado, he glanced at Raskolnikov, laughed and said:
"This morning I went
"You don't say she gave it to you?" cried one of the new-comers; heshouted the words and went off into a guffaw.
"This very quart was bought with her money," Marmeladov declared,addressing himself exclusively to Raskolnikov. "Thirty copecks she gaveme with her own hands, her last, all she had, as I saw.... She saidnothing, she only looked at me without a word.... Not on earth, but upyonder... they grieve over men, they weep, but they don't blame them,they don't blame them! But it hurts more, it hurts more when they don'tblame! Thirty copecks yes! And maybe she needs them now, eh? What doyou think, my dear sir? For now she's got to keep up her appearance. Itcosts money, that smartness, that special smartness, you know? Do youunderstand? And there's pomatum, too, you see, she must have things;petticoats, starched ones, shoes, too, real jaunty ones to show off herfoot when she has to step over a puddle. Do you understand, sir, do youunderstand what all that smartness means? And here I, her own father,here I took thirty copecks of that money for a drink! And I am drinkingit! And I have already drunk it! Come, who will have pity on a man likeme, eh? Are you sorry for me, sir, or not? Tell me, sir, are you sorryor not? He-he-he!"
He would have filled his glass, but there was no drink left. The pot wasempty.
"What are you to be pitied for?" shouted the tavern-keeper who was againnear them.
Shouts of laughter and even oaths followed. The laughter and the oathscame from those who were listening and also from those who had heardnothing but were simply looking at the figure of the dischargedgovernment clerk.
"To be pitied! Why am I to be pitied?" Marmeladov suddenly declaimed,standing up with his arm outstretched, as though he had been onlywaiting for that question.
"Why am I to be pitied, you say? Yes! there's nothing to pity me for! Iought to be crucified, crucified on a cross, not pitied! Crucify me,oh judge, crucify me but pity me! And then I will go of myself to becrucified, for it's not merry-making I seek but tears and tribulation!...Do you suppose, you that sell, that this pint of yours has beensweet to me? It was tribulation I sought at the bottom of it, tears andtribulation, and have found it, and I have tasted it; but He will pityus Who has had pity on all men, Who has understood all men and allthings, He is the One, He too is the judge. He will come in that dayand He will ask: 'Where is the daughter who gave herself for her cross,consumptive step-mother and for the little children of another? Where isthe daughter who had pity upon the filthy drunkard, her earthly father,undismayed by his beastliness?' And He will say, 'Come to me! I havealready forgiven thee once.... I have forgiven thee once.... Thy sinswhich are many are forgiven thee for thou hast loved much....' And hewill forgive my Sonia, He will forgive, I know it... I felt it in myheart when I was with her just now! And He will judge and will forgiveall, the good and the evil, the wise and the meek.... And when He hasdone with all of them, then He will summon us. 'You too come forth,'He will say, 'Come forth ye drunkards, come forth, ye weak ones, comeforth, ye children of shame!' And we shall all come forth, without shameand shall stand before him. And He will say unto us, 'Ye are swine, madein the Image of the Beast and with his mark; but come ye also!' And thewise ones and those of understanding will say, 'Oh Lord, why dost Thoureceive these men?' And He will say, 'This is why I receive them, oh yewise, this is why I receive them, oh ye of understanding, that not oneof them believed himself to be worthy of this.' And He will hold out Hishands to us and we shall fall down before him... and we shall weep...and we shall understand all things! Then we shall understand all!... andall will understand, Katerina Ivanovna even... she will understand....Lord, Thy kingdom come!" And he sank down on the bench exhausted, andhelpless, looking at no one, apparently oblivious of his surroundingsand plunged in deep thought. His words had created a certain impression;there was a moment of silence; but soon laughter and oaths were heardagain.
"That's his notion!"
"Talked himself silly!"
"A fine clerk he is!"
And so on, and so on.
"Let us go, sir," said Marmeladov all at once, raising his head andaddressing Raskolnikov--"come along with me... Kozel's house, lookinginto the yard. I'm going to Katerina Ivanovna--time I did."
Raskolnikov had for some time been wanting to go and he had meant tohelp him. Marmeladov was much unsteadier on his legs than in his speechand leaned heavily on the young man. They had two or three hundredpaces to go. The drunken man was more and more overcome by dismay andconfusion as they drew nearer the house.
"It's not Katerina Ivanovna I am afraid of now," he muttered inagitation--"and that she will begin pulling my hair. What does my hairmatter! Bother my hair! That's what I say! Indeed it will be better ifshe does begin pulling it, that's not what I am afraid of... it's hereyes I am afraid of... yes, her eyes... the red on her cheeks, too,frightens me... and her breathing too.... Have you noticed how peoplein that disease breathe... when they are excited? I am frightened ofthe children's crying, too.... For if Sonia has not taken them food...I don't know what's happened! I don't know! But blows I am not afraidof.... Know, sir, that such blows are not a pain to me, but even anenjoyment. In fact I can't get on without it.... It's better so. Lether strike me, it relieves her heart... it's better so... There is thehouse. The house of Kozel, the cabinet-maker... a German, well-to-do.Lead the way!"
They went in from the yard and up to the fourth storey. The staircasegot darker and darker as they went up. It was nearly eleven o'clockand although in summer in Petersburg there is no real night, yet it wasquite dark at the top of the stairs.
A grimy little door at the very top of the stairs stood ajar. A verypoor-looking room about ten paces long was lighted up by a candle-end;the whole of it was visible from the entrance. It was all in disorder,littered up with rags of all sorts, especially children's garments.Across the furthest corner was stretched a ragged sheet. Behind itprobably was the bed. There was nothing in the room except two chairsand a sofa covered with American leather, full of holes, before whichstood an old deal kitchen-table, unpainted and uncovered. At the edgeof the table stood a smoldering tallow-candle in an iron candlestick. Itappeared that the family had a room to themselves, not part of a room,but their room was practically a passage. The door leading to the otherrooms, or rather cupboards, into which Amalia Lippevechsel's flat wasdivided stood half open, and there was shouting, uproar and laughterwithin. People seemed to be playing cards and drinking tea there. Wordsof the most unceremonious kind flew out from time to time.
Raskolnikov recognised Katerina Ivanovna at once. She was a rather tall,slim and graceful woman, terribly emaciated, with magnificent dark brownhair and with a hectic flush in her cheeks. She was pacing up and downin her little room, pressing her hands against her chest; her lipswere parched and her breathing came in nervous broken gasps. Her eyesglittered as in fever and looked about with a harsh immovable stare. Andthat consumptive and excited face with the last flickering light of thecandle-end playing upon it made a sickening impression. She seemed toRaskolnikov about thirty years old and was certainly a strange wife forMarmeladov.... She had not heard them and did not notice them coming in.She seemed to be lost in thought, hearing and seeing nothing. The roomwas close, but she had not opened the window; a stench rose from thestaircase, but the door on to the stairs was not closed. From the innerrooms clouds of tobacco smoke floated in, she kept coughing, but did notclose the door. The youngest child, a girl of six, was asleep, sittingcurled up on the floor with her head on the sofa. A boy a year olderstood crying and shaking in the corner, probably he had just had abeating. Beside him stood a girl of nine years old, tall and thin,wearing a thin and ragged chemise with an ancient cashmere pelisse flungover her bare shoulders, long outgrown and barely reaching her knees.Her arm, as thin as a stick, was round her brother's neck. She wastrying to comfort him, whispering something to him, and doing all shecould to keep him from whimpering again. At the same time her largedark eyes, which looked larger still from the thinness of her frightenedface, we
"Ah!" she cried out in a frenzy, "he has come back! The criminal! themonster!... And where is the money? What's in your pocket, show me! Andyour clothes are all different! Where are your clothes? Where is themoney! Speak!"
And she fell to searching him. Marmeladov submissively and obedientlyheld up both arms to facilitate the search. Not a farthing was there.
"Where is the money?" she cried--"Mercy on us, can he have drunk it all?There were twelve silver roubles left in the chest!" and in a furyshe seized him by the hair and dragged him into the room. Marmeladovseconded her efforts by meekly crawling along on his knees.
"And this is a consolation to me! This does not hurt me, but is apositive con-so-la-tion, ho-nou-red sir," he called out, shaken to andfro by his hair and even once striking the ground with his forehead.The child asleep on the floor woke up, and began to cry. The boy in thecorner losing all control began trembling and screaming and rushedto his sister in violent terror, almost in a fit. The eldest girl wasshaking like a leaf.
"He's drunk it! he's drunk it all," the poor woman screamed indespair--"and his clothes are gone! And they are hungry, hungry!"--andwringing her hands she pointed to the children. "Oh, accursed life!And you, are you not ashamed?"--she pounced all at once uponRaskolnikov--"from the tavern! Have you been drinking with him? You havebeen drinking with him, too! Go away!"
The young man was hastening away without uttering a word. The inner doorwas thrown wide open and inquisitive faces were peering in at it. Coarselaughing faces with pipes and cigarettes and heads wearing caps thrustthemselves in at the doorway. Further in could be seen figures indressing gowns flung open, in costumes of unseemly scantiness, some ofthem with cards in their hands. They were particularly diverted, whenMarmeladov, dragged about by his hair, shouted that it was a consolationto him. They even began to come into the room; at last a sinister shrilloutcry was heard: this came from Amalia Lippevechsel herself pushing herway amongst them and trying to restore order after her own fashion andfor the hundredth time to frighten the poor woman by ordering herwith coarse abuse to clear out of the room next day. As he went out,Raskolnikov had time to put his hand into his pocket, to snatch up thecoppers he had received in exchange for his rouble in the tavern and tolay them unnoticed on the window. Afterwards on the stairs, he changedhis mind and would have gone back.
"What a stupid thing I've done," he thought to himself, "they have Soniaand I want it myself." But reflecting that it would be impossible totake it back now and that in any case he would not have taken it, hedismissed it with a wave of his hand and went back to his lodging."Sonia wants pomatum too," he said as he walked along the street, and helaughed malignantly--"such smartness costs money.... Hm! And maybe Soniaherself will be bankrupt to-day, for there is always a risk, huntingbig game... digging for gold... then they would all be without a crustto-morrow except for my money. Hurrah for Sonia! What a mine they've dugthere! And they're making the most of it! Yes, they are making the mostof it! They've wept over it and grown used to it. Man grows used toeverything, the scoundrel!"
He sank into thought.
"And what if I am wrong," he cried suddenly after a moment's thought."What if man is not really a scoundrel, man in general, I mean, thewhole race of mankind--then all the rest is prejudice, simply artificialterrors and there are no barriers and it's all as it should be."