"He won't be worth much if he does," answered Dounia, sharply and contemptuously.
"We did well to come away," Pulcheria Alexandrovna hurriedly broke in. "He was
in a hurry about some business or other. If he gets out and has a breath of air…
it is fearfully close in his room…. But where is one to get a breath of air here.
The very streets here feel like shut-up rooms. Good heavens! what a town!… stay…
this side… they will crush you– carrying something. Why, it is a piano they have
got, I declare… how they push… I am very much afraid of that young woman, too."
"What young woman, mother?
"Why, that Sofya Semyonovna, who was there just now."
"I have a presentiment, Dounia. Well, you may believe it or not, but as soon
as she came in, that very minute, I felt that she was the chief cause of the trouble…."
"Nothing of the sort!" cried Dounia, in vexation. "What nonsense, with your presentiments,
mother! He only made her acquaintance the evening before, and he did not know her
when she came in."
"Well, you will see…. She worries me; but you will see, you will see! I was so
frightened. She was gazing at me with those eyes. I could scarcely sit still in
my chair when he began introducing her, do you remember? It seems so strange, but
Pyotr Petrovitch writes like that about her, and he introduces her to us– to you!
So he must think a great deal of her."
"People will write anything. We were talked about and written about, too. Have
you forgotten? I am sure that she is a good girl, and that it is all nonsense."
"God grant it may be!"
"And Pyotr Petrovitch is a contemptible slanderer," Dounia snapped out, suddenly.
Pulcheria Alexandrovna was crushed; the conversation was not resumed. –
"I will tell you what I want with you," said Raskolnikov, drawing Razumihin to
"Then I will tell Katerina Ivanovna that you are coming," Sonia said hurriedly,
preparing to depart.
"One minute, Sofya Semyonovna. We have no secrets. You are not in our way. I
want to have another word or two with you. Listen!" he turned suddenly to Razumihin
again. "You know that… what's his name… Porfiry Petrovitch?"
"I should think so! He is a relation. Why?" added the latter, with interest.
"Is not he managing that case… you know about that murder?… You were speaking
about it yesterday."
"Yes… well?" Razumihin's eyes opened wide.
"He was inquiring for people who had pawned things, and I have some pledges there,
too– trifles– a ring my sister gave me as a keepsake when I left home, and my father's
silver watch– they are only worth five or six roubles altogether… but I value them.
So what am I to do now? I do not want to lose the things, especially the watch.
I was quaking just now, for fear mother would ask to look at it, when we spoke of
Dounia's watch. It is the only thing of father's left us. She would be ill if it
were lost. You know what women are. So tell me what to do. I know I ought to have
given notice at the police station, but would it not be better to go straight to
Porfiry? Eh? What do you think? The matter might be settled more quickly. You see
mother may ask for it before dinner."
"Certainly not to the police station. Certainly to Porfiry," Razumihin shouted
in extraordinary excitement. "Well, how glad I am. Let us go at once. It is a couple
of steps. We shall be sure to find him."
"Very well, let us go."
"And he will be very, very glad to make your acquaintance. I have often talked
to him of you at different times. I was speaking of you yesterday. Let us go. So
you knew the old woman? So that's it! It is all turning out splendidly…. Oh, yes,
"Sofya Semyonovna," corrected Raskolnikov. "Sofya Semyonovna, this is my friend
Razumihin, and he is a good man."
"If you have to go now," Sonia was beginning, not looking at Razumihin at all,
and still more embarrassed.
"Let us go," decided Raskolnikov. "I will come to you to-day, Sofya Semyonovna.
Only tell me where you live."
He was not exactly ill at ease, but seemed hurried, and avoided her eyes. Sonia
gave her address, and flushed as she did so. They all went out together.
"Don't you lock up?" asked Razumihin, following him on to the stairs.
"Never," answered Raskolnikov. "I have been meaning to buy a lock for these two
years. People are happy who have no need of locks," he said, laughing, to Sonia.
They stood still in the gateway.
"Do you go to the right, Sofya Semyonovna? How did you find me, by the way?"
he added, as though he wanted to say something quite different. He wanted to look
at her soft clear eyes, but this was not easy.
"Why, you gave your address to Polenka yesterday."
"Polenka? Oh, yes; Polenka, that is the little girl. She is your sister? Did
I give her the address?"
"Why, had you forgotten?"
"No, I remember."
"I had heard my father speak of you… only I did not know your name, and he did
not know it. And now I came… and as I had learnt your name, I asked to-day, 'Where
does Mr. Raskolnikov live?' I did not know you had only a room too…. Good-bye, I
will tell Katerina Ivanovna."
She was extremely glad to escape at last; she went away looking down, hurrying
to get out of sight as soon as possible, to walk the twenty steps to the turning
on the right and to be at last alone, and then moving rapidly along, looking at
no one, noticing nothing, to think, to remember, to meditate on every word, every
detail. Never, never had she felt anything like this. Dimly and unconsciously a
whole new world was opening before her. She remembered suddenly that Raskolnikov
meant to come to her that day, perhaps at once!
"Only not to-day, please, not to-day!" she kept muttering with a sinking heart,
as though entreating some one, like a frightened child. "Mercy! to me… to that room…
he will see… oh, dear!"
She was not capable at that instant of noticing an unknown gentleman who was
watching her and following at her heels. He had accompanied her from the gateway.
At the moment when Razumihin, Raskolnikov, and she stood still at parting on the
pavement, this gentleman, who was just passing, started on hearing Sonia's words:
"and I asked where Mr. Raskolnikov lived?" He turned a rapid but attentive look
upon all three, especially upon Raskolnikov, to whom Sonia was speaking; then looked
back and noted the house. All this was done in an instant as he passed, and trying
not to betray his interest, he walked on more slowly as though waiting for something.
He was waiting for Sonia; he saw that they were parting, and that Sonia was going
"Home? Where? I've seen that face somewhere," he thought. "I must find out."
At the turning he crossed over, looked round, and saw Sonia coming the same way,
noticing nothing. She turned the corner. He followed her on the other side. After
about fifty paces he crossed over again, overtook her and kept two or three yards
He was a man about fifty, rather tall and thickly set, with broad high shoulders
which made him look as though he stooped a little. He wore good and fashionable
clothes, and looked like a gentleman of position. He carried a handsome cane, which
he tapped on the pavement at each step; his gloves were spotless. He had a broad,
rather pleasant face with high cheek-bones and a fresh colour, not often seen in
Petersburg. His flaxen hair was still abundant, and only touched here and there
with grey, and his thick square beard was even lighter than his hair. His eyes were
blue and had a cold and thoughtful look; his lips were crimson. He was a remarkedly
well-preserved man and looked much younger than his years.
When Sonia came out on the canal bank, they were the only two persons on the
pavement. He observed her dreaminess and preoccupation. On reaching the house where
she lodged, Sonia turned in at the gate; he followed her, seeming rather surprised.
In the courtyard she turned to the right corner. "Bah!" muttered the unknown gentleman,
and mounted the stairs behind her. Only then Sonia noticed him. She reached the
third storey, turned down the passage, and rang at No. 9. On the door was inscribed
in chalk, "Kapernaumov, Tailor." "Bah!" the stranger repeated again, wondering at
the strange coincidence, and he rang next door, at No. 8. The doors were two or
three yards apart.
"You lodge at Kapernaumov's," he said, looking at Sonia and laughing. "He altered
a waistcoat for me yesterday. I am staying close here at Madame Resslich's. How
odd!" Sonia looked at him attentively.
"We are neighbours," he went on gaily. "I only came to town the day before yesterday.
Good-bye for the present."
Sonia made no reply; the door opened and she slipped in. She felt for some reason
ashamed and uneasy.
On the way to Porfiry's, Razumihin was obviously excited.
"That's capital, brother," he repeated several times, "and I am glad! I am glad!"
"What are you glad about?" Raskolnikov thought to himself.
"I didn't know that you pledged things at the old woman's, too. And… was it long
ago? I mean, was it long since you were there?"
"What a simple-hearted fool he is!"
"When was it?" Raskolnikov stopped still to recollect. "Two or three days before
her death it must have been. But I am not going to redeem the things now," he put
in with a sort of hurried and conspicuous solicitude about the things. "I've not
more than a silver rouble left… after last night's accursed delirium!"
He laid special emphasis on the delirium.
"Yes, yes," Razumihin hastened to agree– with what was not clear. "Then that's
why you… were struck… partly… you know in your delirium you were continually mentioning
some rings or chains! Yes, yes… that's clear, it's all clear now."
"Hullo! How that idea must have got about among them. Here this man will go to
the stake for me, and I find him delighted at having it cleared up why I spoke of
rings in my delirium! What a hold the idea must have on all of them!"
"Shall we find him?" he asked suddenly.
"Oh, yes," Razumihin answered quickly. "He is a nice fellow you will see, brother.
Rather clumsy, that is to say, he is a man of polished manners, but I mean clumsy
in a different sense. He is an intelligent fellow, very much so indeed, but he has
his own range of ideas…. He is incredulous, sceptical, cynical… he likes to impose
on people, or rather to make fun of them. His is the old, circumstantial method….
But he understands his work… thoroughly…. Last year he cleared up a case of murder
in which the police had hardly a clue. He is very, very anxious to make your acquaintance."
"On what grounds is he so anxious?"
"Oh, it's not exactly… you see, since you've been ill I happen to have mentioned
you several times…. So, when he heard about you… about your being a law student
and not able to finish your studies, he said, 'What a pity!' And so I concluded…
from everything together, not only that; yesterday, Zametov… you know, Rodya, I
talked some nonsense on the way home to you yesterday, when I was drunk… I am afraid,
brother, of your exaggerating it, you see."
"What? That they think I am a madman? Maybe they are right," he said with a constrained
"Yes, yes…. That is, pooh, no!… But all that I said (and there was something
else too) it was all nonsense, drunken nonsense."
"But why are you apologizing? I am so sick of it all!" Raskolnikov cried with
exaggerated irritability. It was partly assumed, however.
"I know, I know, I understand. Believe me, I understand. One's ashamed to speak
"If you are ashamed, then don't speak of it."
Both were silent. Razumihin was more than ecstatic and Raskolnikov perceived
it with repulsion. He was alarmed, too, by what Razumihin had just said about Porfiry.
"I shall have to pull a long face with him too," he thought, with a beating heart,
and he turned white, "and do it naturally, too. But the most natural thing would
be to do nothing at all. Carefully do nothing at all! No, carefully would not be
natural again…. Oh, well, we shall see how it turns out…. We shall see… directly.
Is it a good thing to go or not? The butterfly flies to the light. My heart is beating,
that's what's bad!"
"In this grey house," said Razumihin.
"The most important thing, does Porfiry know that I was at the old hag's flat
yesterday… and asked about the blood? I must find that out instantly, as soon as
I go in, find out from his face; otherwise… I'll find out, if it's my ruin."
"I say, brother," he said suddenly, addressing Razumihin, with a sly smile, "I
have been noticing all day that you seem to be curiously excited. Isn't it so?"
"Excited? Not a bit of it," said Razumihin, stung to the quick.
"Yes, brother, I assure you it's noticeable. Why, you sat on your chair in a
way you never do sit, on the edge somehow, and you seemed to be writhing all the
time. You kept jumping up for nothing. One moment you were angry, and the next your
face looked like a sweetmeat. You even blushed; especially when you were invited
to dinner, you blushed awfully."
"Nothing of the sort, nonsense! What do you mean?"
"But why are you wriggling out of it, like a schoolboy? By Jove, there he's blushing
"What a pig you are!"
"But why are you so shamefaced about it? Romeo! Stay, I'll tell of you to-day.
Ha-ha-ha! I'll make mother laugh, and some one else, too…"