"Yes, yes, that's it," Lebeziatnikov assented gleefully, "that must be it, for
he asked me, as soon as Sofya Semyonovna came into our room, whether you were here,
whether I had seen you among Katerina Ivanovna's guests. He called me aside to the
window and asked me in secret. It was essential for him that you should be here!
That's it, that's it!"
Luzhin smiled contemptuously and did not speak. But he was very pale. He seemed
to be deliberating on some means of escape. Perhaps he would have been glad to give
up everything and get away, but at the moment this was scarcely possible. It would
have implied admitting the truth of the accusations brought against him. Moreover,
the company, which had already been excited by drink, was now too much stirred to
allow it. The commissariat clerk, though indeed he had not grasped the whole position,
was shouting louder than any one and was making some suggestions very unpleasant
to Luzhin. But not all those present were drunk; lodgers came in from all the rooms.
The three Poles were tremendously excited and were continually shouting at him:
"The Pan is a lajdak!" and muttering threats in Polish. Sonia had been listening
with strained attention, though she too seemed unable to grasp it all; she seemed
as though she had just returned to consciousness. She did not take her eyes off
Raskolnikov, feeling that all her safety lay in him. Katerina Ivanovna breathed
hard and painfully and seemed fearfully exhausted. Amalia Ivanovna stood looking
more stupid than any one, with her mouth wide open, unable to make out what had
happened. She only saw that Pyotr Petrovitch had somehow come to grief.
Raskolnikov was attempting to speak again, but they did not let him. Every one
was crowding round Luzhin with threats and shouts of abuse. But Pyotr Petrovitch
was not intimidated. Seeing that his accusation of Sonia had completely failed,
he had recourse to insolence:
"Allow me, gentlemen, allow me! Don't squeeze, let me pass!" he said, making
his way through the crowd. "And no threats if you please! I assure you it will be
useless, you will gain nothing by it. On the contrary, you'll have to answer, gentlemen,
for violently obstructing the course of justice. The thief has been more than unmasked,
and I shall prosecute. Our judges are not so blind and… not so drunk, and will not
believe the testimony of two notorious infidels, agitators, and atheists, who accuse
me from motives of personal revenge which they are foolish enough to admit…. Yes,
allow me to pass!"
"Don't let me find a trace of you in my room! Kindly leave at once, and everything
is at an end between us! When I think of the trouble I've been taking, the way I've
been expounding… all this fortnight!"
"I told you myself to-day that I was going, when you tried to keep me; now I
will simply add that you are a fool. I advise you to see a doctor for your brains
and your short sight. Let me pass, gentlemen!"
He forced his way through. But the commissariat clerk was unwilling to let him
off so easily: he picked up a glass from the table, brandished it in the air and
flung it at Pyotr Petrovitch; but the glass flew straight at Amalia Ivanovna. She
screamed, and the clerk, overbalancing, fell heavily under the table. Pyotr Petrovitch
made his way to his room and half an hour later had left the house. Sonia, timid
by nature, had felt before that day that she could be ill-treated more easily than
any one, and that she could be wronged with impunity. Yet till that moment she had
fancied that she might escape misfortune by care, gentleness and submissiveness
before every one. Her disappointment was too great. She could, of course, bear with
patience and almost without murmur anything, even this. But for the first minute
she felt it too bitter. In spite of her triumph and her justification– when her
first terror and stupefaction had passed and she could understand it all clearly–
the feeling of her helplessness and of the wrong done to her made her heart throb
with anguish and she was overcome with hysterical weeping. At last, unable to bear
any more, she rushed out of the room and ran home, almost immediately after Luzhin's
departure. When amidst loud laughter the glass flew at Amalia Ivanovna, it was more
than the landlady could endure. With a shriek she rushed like a fury at Katerina
Ivanovna, considering her to blame for everything.
"Out of my lodgings! At once! Quick march!"
And with these words she began snatching up everything she could lay her hands
on that belonged to Katerina Ivanovna, and throwing it on the floor, Katerina Ivanovna,
pale, almost fainting, and gasping for breath, jumped up from the bed where she
had sunk in exhaustion and darted at Amalia Ivanovna. But the battle was too unequal:
the landlady waved her away like a feather.
"What! As though that godless calumny was not enough– this vile creature attacks
me! What! On the day of my husband's funeral I am turned out of my lodgings! After
eating my bread and salt she turns me into the street, with my orphans! Where am
I to go?" wailed the poor woman, sobbing and gasping. "Good God!" she cried with
flashing eyes, "is there no justice upon earth? Whom should you protect if not us
orphans? We shall see! There is law and justice on earth, there is, I will find
it! Wait a bit, godless creature! Polenka, stay with the children, I'll come back.
Wait for me, if you have to wait in the street. We will see whether there is justice
And throwing over her head that green shawl which Marmeladov had mentioned to
Raskolnikov, Katerina Ivanovna squeezed her way through the disorderly and drunken
crowd of lodgers who still filled the room, and, wailing and tearful, she ran into
the street– with a vague intention of going at once somewhere to find justice. Polenka
with the two little ones in her arms crouched, terrified, on the trunk in the corner
of the room, where she waited trembling for her mother to come back. Amalia Ivanovna
raged about the room, shrieking, lamenting and throwing everything she came across
on the floor. The lodgers talked incoherently, some commented to the best of their
ability on what had happened, others quarreled and swore at one another, while others
struck up a song….
"Now it's time for me to go," thought Raskolnikov. "Well, Sofya Semyonovna, we
shall see what you'll say now!"
And he set off in the direction of Sonia's lodgings. CHAPTERFOUR Chapter Four
RASKOLNIKOV had been a vigorous and active champion of Sonia against Luzhin,
although he had such a load of horror and anguish in his own heart. But having gone
through so much in the morning, he found a sort of relief in a change of sensations,
apart from the strong personal feeling which impelled him to defend Sonia. He was
agitated too, especially at some moments, by the thought of his approaching interview
with Sonia: he had to tell her who had killed Lizaveta. He knew the terrible suffering
it would be to him and, as it were, brushed away the thought of it. So when he cried
as he left Katerina Ivanovna's, "Well, Sofya Semyonovna, we shall see what you'll
say now!" he was still superficially excited, still vigorous and defiant from his
triumph over Luzhin. But, strange to say, by the time he reached Sonia's lodging,
he felt a sudden impotence and fear. He stood still in hesitation at the door, asking
himself the strange question: "Must I tell her who killed Lizaveta?" It was a strange
question because he felt at the very time not only that he could not help telling
her, but also that he could not put off the telling. He did not yet know why it
must be so, he only felt it, and the agonising sense of his impotence before the
inevitable almost crushed him. To cut short his hesitation and suffering, he quickly
opened the door and looked at Sonia from the doorway. She was sitting with her elbows
on the table and her face in her hands, but seeing Raskolnikov she got up at once
and came to meet him as though she were expecting him.
"What would have become of me but for you!" she said quickly, meeting him in
the middle of the room.
Evidently she was in haste to say this to him. It was what she had been waiting
Raskolnikov went to the table and sat down on the chair from which she had only
just risen. She stood facing him, two steps away, just as she had done the day before.
"Well, Sonia?" he said, and felt that his voice was trembling, "it was all due
to 'your social position and the habits associated with it.' Did you understand
that just now?"
Her face showed her distress.
"Only don't talk to me as you did yesterday," she interrupted him. "Please don't
begin it. There is misery enough without that."
She made haste to smile, afraid that he might not like the reproach.
"I was silly to come away from there. What is happening there now? I wanted to
go back directly, but I kept thinking that… you would come."
He told her that Amalia Ivanovna was turning them out of their lodging and that
Katerina Ivanovna had run off somewhere "to seek justice."
"My God!" cried Sonia, "let's go at once…."
And she snatched up her cape.
"It's everlastingly the same thing!" said Raskolnikov, irritably. "You've no
thought except for them! Stay a little with me."
"But… Katerina Ivanovna?"
"You won't lose Katerina Ivanovna, you may be sure, she'll come to you herself
since she has run out," he added peevishly. "If she doesn't find you here, you'll
be blamed for it…."
Sonia sat down in painful suspense. Raskolnikov was silent, gazing at the floor
"This time Luzhin did not want to prosecute you," he began, not looking at Sonia,
"but if he had wanted to, if it had suited his plans, he would have sent you to
prison if it had not been for Lebeziatnikov and me. Ah?"
"Yes," she assented in a faint voice. "Yes," she repeated, preoccupied and distressed.
"But I might easily not have been there. And it was quite an accident Lebeziatnikov's
Sonia was silent.
"And if you'd gone to prison, what then? Do you remember what I said yesterday?"
Again she did not answer. He waited.
"I thought you would cry out again 'don't speak of it, leave off.'" Raskolnikov
gave a laugh, but rather a forced one. "What, silence again?" he asked a minute
later. "We must talk about something, you know. It would be interesting for me to
know how you would decide a certain 'problem' as Lebeziatnikov would say." (He was
beginning to lose the thread.) "No, really, I am serious. Imagine, Sonia, that you
had known all Luzhin's intentions beforehand. Known, that is, for a fact, that they
would be the ruin of Katerina Ivanovna and the children and yourself thrown in–
since you don't count yourself for anything– Polenka too… for she'll go the same
way. Well, if suddenly it all depended on your decision whether he or they should
go on living, that is whether Luzhin should go on living and doing wicked things,
or Katerina Ivanovna should die? How would you decide which of them was to die?
I ask you?"
Sonia looked uneasily at him. There was something peculiar in this hesitating
question, which seemed approaching something in a roundabout way.
"I felt that you were going to ask some question like that," she said, looking
inquisitively at him.
"I dare say you did. But how is it to be answered?"
"Why do you ask about what could not happen?" said Sonia reluctantly.
"Then it would be better for Luzhin to go on living and doing wicked things?
You haven't dared to decide even that!"
"But I can't know the Divine Providence…. And why do you ask what can't be answered?
What's the use of such foolish questions? How could it happen that it should depend
on my decision– who has made me a judge to decide who is to live and who is not
"Oh, if the Divine Providence is to be mixed up in it, there is no doing anything,"
Raskolnikov grumbled morosely.
"You'd better say straight out what you want!" Sonia cried in distress. "You
are leading up to something again…. Can you have come simply to torture me?"
She could not control herself and began crying bitterly. He looked at her in
gloomy misery. Five minutes passed.
"Of course you're right, Sonia," he said softly at last. He was suddenly changed.
His tone of assumed arrogance and helpless defiance was gone. Even his voice was
suddenly weak. "I told you yesterday that I was not coming to ask forgiveness and
almost the first thing I've said is to ask forgiveness…. I said that about Luzhin
and Providence for my own sake. I was asking forgiveness, Sonia…."
He tried to smile, but there was something helpless and incomplete in his pale
smile. He bowed his head and hid his face in his hands.
And suddenly a strange, surprising sensation of a sort of bitter hatred for Sonia
passed through his heart. As it were wondering and frightened of this sensation,
he raised his head and looked intently at her; but he met her uneasy and painfully
anxious eyes fixed on him; there was love in them; his hatred vanished like a phantom.
It was not the real feeling; he had taken the one feeling for the other. It only
meant that that minute had come.
He hid his face in his hands again and bowed his head. Suddenly he turned pale,
got up from his chair, looked at Sonia, and without uttering a word sat down mechanically
on her bed.
His sensations that moment were terribly like the moment when he had stood over
the old woman with the axe in his hand and felt that "he must not lose another minute."
"What's the matter?" asked Sonia, dreadfully frightened.
He could not utter a word. This was not at all, not at all the way he had intended
to "tell" and he did not understand what was happening to him now. She went up to
him, softly, sat down on the bed beside him and waited, not taking her eyes off
him. Her heart throbbed and sank. It was unendurable; he turned his deadly pale
face to her. His lips worked, helplessly struggling to utter something. A pang of
terror passed through Sonia's heart.