"It's all that cuckoo's fault! You know whom I mean? Her, her!" Katerina Ivanovna
nodded towards the landlady. "Look at her, she's making round eyes, she feels that
we are talking about her and can't understand. Pfoo, the owl! Ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.)
And what does she put on that cap for? (Cough-cough-cough.) Have you noticed that
she wants every one to consider that she is patronising me and doing me an honour
by being here? I asked her like a sensible woman to invite people, especially those
who knew my late husband, and look at the set of fools she has brought! The sweeps!
Look at that one with the spotty face. And those wretched Poles, ha-ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.)
Not one of them has ever poked his nose in here, I've never set eyes on them. What
have they come here for, I ask you? There they sit in a row. Hey, Pan!" she cried
suddenly to one of them, "have you tasted the pancakes? Take some more! Have some
beer! Won't you have some vodka? Look, he's jumped up and is making his bows, they
must be quite starved, poor things. Never mind, let them eat! They don't make a
noise, anyway, though I'm really afraid for our landlady's silver spoons… Amalia
Ivanovna!" she addressed her suddenly, almost aloud, "if your spoons should happen
to be stolen, I won't be responsible, I warn you! Ha-ha-ha!" She laughed turning
to Raskolnikov, and again nodding towards the landlady, in high glee at her sally.
"She didn't understand, she didn't understand again! Look how she sits with her
mouth open! An owl, a real owl! An owl in new ribbons, ha-ha-ha!"
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 entree 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 hastened to give her Pyotr Petrovitch's apologies, trying to speak loud
enough for every one to hear and carefully choosing the most respectful phrases
which she attributed to Pyotr Petrovitch. She added that Pyotr Petrovitch had particularly
told her to say that, as soon as he possibly could, he would come immediately to
discuss business alone with her and to consider what could be done for her, &c.,
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
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 every one 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 every one, 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
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.
Raskolnikov sat in silence, listening with disgust. He only ate from politeness,
just tasting the food that Katerina Ivanovna was continually putting on his plate,
to avoid hurting her feelings. He watched Sonia intently. But Sonia became more
and more anxious and distressed; she, too, foresaw that the dinner would not end
peaceably, and saw with terror Katerina Ivanovna's growing irritation. She knew
that she, Sonia, was the chief reason for the 'genteel' ladies' contemptuous treatment
of Katerina Ivanovna's invitation. She had heard from Amalia Ivanovna that the mother
was positively offended at the invitation and had asked the question: "how could
she let her daughter sit down beside that young person?" Sonia had a feeling that
Katerina Ivanovna had already heard this and an insult to Sonia meant more to Katerina
Ivanovna than an insult to herself, her children, or her father, Sonia knew that
Katerina Ivanovna would not be satisfied now, "till she had shown those draggletails
that they were both…" To make matters worse some one passed Sonia, from the other
end of the table, a plate with two hearts pierced with an arrow, cut out of black
bread. Katerina Ivanovna flushed crimson and at once said aloud across the table
that the man who sent it was "a drunken ass!"
Amalia Ivanovna was foreseeing something amiss, and at the same time deeply wounded
by Katerina Ivanovna's haughtiness, and to restore the good-humour of the company
and raise herself in their esteem she began, apropos of nothing, telling a story
about an acquaintance of hers "Karl from the chemist's," who was driving one night
in a cab, and that "the cabman wanted him to kill, and Karl very much begged him
not to kill, and wept and clasped hands, and frightened and from fear pierced his
heart." Though Katerina Ivanovna smiled, she observed at once that Amalia Ivanovna
ought not to tell anecdotes in Russian; the latter was still more offended, and
she retorted that her "Vater aus Berlin was a very important man, and always went
with his hands in pockets." Katerina Ivanovna could not restrain herself and laughed
so much that Amalia Ivanovna lost patience and could scarcely control herself.
"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 any one 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.)"
Regaining her good-humour, Katerina Ivanovna began at once telling Raskolnikov
that when she had obtained her pension, she intended to open a school for the daughters
of gentlemen in her native town T. This was the first time she had spoken to him
of the project, and she launched out into the most alluring details. It suddenly
appeared that Katerina Ivanovna had in her hands the very certificate of honour
of which Marmeladov had spoken to Raskolnikov in the tavern, when he told him that
Katerina Ivanovna, his wife, had danced the shawl dance before the governor and
other great personages on leaving school. This certificate of honour was obviously
intended now to prove Katerina Ivanovna's right to open a boarding-school; but she
had armed herself with it chiefly with the object of overwhelming "those two stuck-up
draggletails" if they came to the dinner, and proving incontestably that Katerina
Ivanovna was of the most noble, "she might even say aristocratic family, a colonel's
daughter and was far superior to certain adventuresses who have been so much to
the fore of late." The certificate of honour immediately passed into the hands of
the drunken guests, and Katerina Ivanovna did not try to retain it, for it actually
contained the statement en toutes lettres, that her father was of the rank of a
major, and also a companion of an order, so that she really was almost the daughter
of a colonel.
Warming up, Katerina Ivanovna proceeded to enlarge on the peacefuland happy life
they would lead in T, on the gymnasium teachers whomshe would engage to give lessons
in her boarding-school, one a most respectable old Frenchman, one Mangot, who had
taught KaterinaIvanovna herself in old days and was still living in T, and wouldno
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 some one 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."
At that moment, Amalia Ivanovna, deeply aggrieved at taking no part in the conversation,
and not being listened to, made one last effort, and with secret misgivings ventured
on an exceedingly deep and weighty observation, that "in the future boarding-school
she would have to pay particular attention to die Wasche, and that there certainly
must be a good Dame to look after the linen, and secondly that the young ladies
must not novels at night read."
Katerina Ivanovna, who certainly was upset and very tired, as well as heartily
sick of the dinner, at once cut short Amalia Ivanovna, saying "she knew nothing
about it and was talking nonsense, that it was the business of the laundry maid,
and not of the directress of a high-class boarding-school to look after die Wasche,
and as for novel reading, that was simply rudeness, and she begged her to be silent."
Amalia Ivanovna fired up and getting angry observed that she only "meant her good,"
and that "she had meant her very good," and that "it was long since she had paid
her Gold for the lodgings."