"Listen, listen, listen, this is serious…. What next, you fiend!" Razumihin was
utterly overwhelmed, turning cold with horror. "What will you tell them? Come, brother…
foo, what a pig you are!"
"You are like a summer rose. And if only you knew how it suits you; a Romeo over
six foot high! And how you've washed to-day– you cleaned your nails, I declare.
Eh? That's something unheard of! Why, I do believe you've got pomaturn on your hair!
Raskolnikov laughed as though he could not restrain himself. So laughing, they
entered Porfiry Petrovitch's flat. This is what Raskolnikov wanted: from within
they could be heard laughing as they came in, still guffawing in the passage.
"Not a word here or I'll… brain you!" Razumihin whispered furiously, seizing
Raskolnikov by the shoulder. CHAPTERFIVE Chapter Five
RASKOLNIKOV was already entering the room. He came in looking as though he had
the utmost difficulty not to burst out laughing again. Behind him Razumihin strode
in gawky and awkward, shamefaced and red as a peony, with an utterly crestfallen
and ferocious expression. His face and whole figure really were ridiculous at that
moment and amply justified Raskolnikov's laughter. Raskolnikov, not waiting for
an introduction, bowed to Porfiry Petrovitch, who stood in the middle of the room
looking inquiringly at them. He held out his hand and shook hands, still apparently
making desperate efforts to subdue his mirth and utter a few words to introduce
himself. But he had no sooner succeeded in assuming a serious air and muttering
something when he suddenly glanced again as though accidentally at Razumihin, and
could no longer control himself: his stifled laughter broke out the more irresistibly
the more he tried to restrain it. The extraordinary ferocity with which Razumihin
received this "spontaneous" mirth gave the whole scene the appearance of most genuine
fun and naturalness. Razumihin strengthened this impression as though on purpose.
"Fool! You fiend," he roared, waving his arm which at once struck a little round
table with an empty tea-glass on it. Everything was sent flying and crashing.
"But why break chairs, gentlemen? You know it's a loss to the Crown," Porfiry
Petrovitch quoted gaily.
Raskolnikov was still laughing, with his hand in Porfiry Petrovitch's, but anxious
not to overdo it, awaited the right moment to put a natural end to it. Razumihin,
completely put to confusion by upsetting the table and smashing the glass, gazed
gloomily at the fragments, cursed and turned sharply to the window where he stood
looking out with his back to the company with a fiercely scowling countenance, seeing
nothing. Porfiry Petrovitch laughed and was ready to go on laughing, but obviously
looked for explanations. Zametov had been sitting in the corner, but he rose at
the visitors' entrance and was standing in expectation with a smile on his lips,
though he looked with surprise and even it seemed incredulity at the whole scene
and at Raskolnikov with a certain embarrassment. Zametov's unexpected presence struck
"I've got to think of that," he thought. "Excuse me, please," he began, affecting
extreme embarrassment. "Raskolnikov."
"Not at all, very pleasant to see you… and how pleasantly you've come in…. Why,
won't he even say good-morning?" Porfiry Petrovitch nodded at Razumihin.
"Upon my honour I don't know why he is in such a rage with me. I only told him
as we came along that he was like Romeo… and proved it. And that was all, I think!"
"Pig!" ejaculated Razumihin, without turning round.
"There must have been very grave grounds for it, if he is so furious at the word,"
"Oh, you sharp lawyer!… Damn you all!" snapped Razumihin, and suddenly bursting
out laughing himself, he went up to Porfiry with a more cheerful face as though
nothing had happened. "That'll do! We are all fools. To come to business. This is
my friend Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov; in the first place he has heard of you
and wants to make your acquaintance, and secondly, he has a little matter of business
with you. Bah! Zametov, what brought you here? Have you met before? Have you known
each other long?"
"What does this mean?" thought Raskolnikov uneasily.
Zametov seemed taken aback, but not very much so.
"Why, it was at your rooms we met yesterday," he said easily.
"Then I have been spared the trouble. All last week he was begging me to introduce
him to you. Porfiry and you have sniffed each other out without me. Where is your
Porfiry Petrovitch was wearing a dressing-gown, very clean linen, and trodden-down
slippers. He was a man of about five and thirty, short, stout even to corpulence,
and clean shaven. He wore his hair cut short and had a large round head, particularly
prominent at the back. His soft, round, rather snub-nosed face was of a sickly yellowish
colour, but had a vigorous and rather ironical expression. It would have been good-natured,
except for a look in the eyes, which shone with a watery, mawkish light under almost
white, blinking eyelashes. The expression of those eyes was strangely out of keeping
with his somewhat womanish figure, and gave it something far more serious than could
be guessed at first sight.
As soon as Porfiry Petrovitch heard that his visitor had a little matter of business
with him, he begged him to sit down on the sofa and sat down himself on the other
end, waiting for him to explain his business, with that careful and over-serious
attention which is at once oppressive and embarrassing, especially to a stranger,
and especially if what you are discussing is in your opinion of far too little importance
for such exceptional solemnity. But in brief and coherent phrases Raskolnikov explained
his business clearly and exactly, and was so well satisfied with himself that he
even succeeded in taking a good look at Porfiry. Porfiry Petrovitch did not once
take his eyes off him. Razumihin, sitting opposite at the same table, listened warmly
and impatiently, looking from one to the other every moment with rather excessive
"Fool," Raskolnikov swore to himself.
"You have to give information to the police," Porfiry replied, with a most businesslike
air, "that having learnt of this incident, that is of the murder, you beg to inform
the lawyer in charge of the case that such and such things belong to you, and that
you desire to redeem them… or… but they will write to you."
"That's just the point, that at the present moment," Raskolnikov tried his utmost
to feign embarrassment, "I am not quite in funds… and even this trifling sum is
beyond me… I only wanted, you see, for the present to declare that the things are
mine, and that when I have money…."
"That's no matter," answered Porfiry Petrovitch, receiving his explanation of
his pecuniary position coldly, "but you can, if you prefer, write straight to me,
to say, that having been informed of the matter, and claiming such and such as your
property, you beg…"
"On an ordinary sheet of paper?" Raskolnikov interrupted eagerly, again interested
in the financial side of the question.
"Oh, the most ordinary," and suddenly Porfiry Petrovitch looked with obvious
irony at him, screwing up his eyes and as it were winking at him. But perhaps it
was Raskolnikov's fancy, for it all lasted but a moment. There was certainly something
of the sort, Raskolnikov could have sworn he winked at him, goodness knows why.
"He knows," flashed through his mind like lightning.
"Forgive my troubling you about such trifles," he went on, a little disconcerted,
"the things are only worth five roubles, but I prize them particularly for the sake
of those from whom they came to me, and I must confess that I was alarmed when I
"That's why you were so much struck when I mentioned to Zossimov that Porfiry
was inquiring for every one who had pledges!" Razumihin put in with obvious intention.
This was really unbearable. Raskolnikov could not help glancing at him with a
flash of vindictive anger in his black eyes, but immediately recollected himself.
"You seem to be jeering at me, brother?" he said to him, with a well-feigned
irritability. "I dare say I do seem to you absurdly anxious about such trash; but
you mustn't think me selfish or grasping for that, and these two things may be anything
but trash in my eyes. I told you just now that the silver watch, though it's not
worth a cent, is the only thing left us of my father's. You may laugh at me, but
my mother is here," he turned suddenly to Porfiry, "and if she knew," he turned
again hurriedly to Razumihin, carefully making his voice tremble, "that the watch
was lost, she would be in despair! You know what women are!"
"Not a bit of it! I didn't mean that at all! Quite the contrary!" shouted Razumihin
"Was it right? Was it natural? Did I overdo it?" Raskolnikov asked himself in
a tremor. "Why did I say that about women?"
"Oh, your mother is with you?" Porfiry Petrovitch inquired.
"When did she come?"
Porfiry paused as though reflecting.
"Your things would not in any case be lost," he went on calmly and coldly. "I
have been expecting you here for some time."
And as though that was a matter of no importance, he carefully offered the ash-tray
to Razumihin, who was ruthlessly scattering cigarette ash over the carpet. Raskolnikov
shuddered, but Porfiry did not seem to be looking at him, and was still concerned
with Razumihin's cigarette.
"What? Expecting him? Why, did you know that he had pledges there?" cried Razumihin.
Porfiry Petrovitch addressed himself to Raskolnikov.
"Your things, the ring and the watch, were wrapped up together, and on the paper
your name was legibly written in pencil, together with the date on which you left
them with her…"
"How observant you are!" Raskolnikov smiled awkwardly, doing his very utmost
to look him straight in the face, but he failed, and suddenly added:
"I say that because I suppose there were a great many pledges… that it must be
difficult to remember them all…. But you remember them all so clearly, and… and…"
"Stupid! Feeble!" he thought. "Why did I add that?"
"But we know all who had pledges, and you are the only one who hasn't come forward,"
Porfiry answered with hardly perceptible irony.
"I haven't been quite well."
"I heard that too. I heard, indeed, that you were in great distress about something.
You look pale still."
"I am not pale at all…. No, I am quite well," Raskolnikov snapped out rudely
and angrily, completely changing his tone. His anger was mounting, he could not
repress it. "And in my anger I shall betray myself," flashed through his mind again.
"Why are they torturing me?"
"Not quite well!" Razumihin caught him up. "What next! He was unconscious and
delirious all yesterday. Would you believe, Porfiry, as soon as our backs were turned,
he dressed, though he could hardly stand, and gave us the slip and went off on a
spree somewhere till midnight, delirious all the time! Would you believe it! Extraordinary!"
"Really delirious? You don't say so!" Porfiry shook his head in a womanish way.
"Nonsense! Don't you believe it! But you don't believe it anyway," Raskolnikov
let slip in his anger. But Porfiry Petrovitch did not seem to catch those strange
"But how could you have gone out if you hadn't been delirious?" Razumihin got
hot suddenly. "What did you go out for? What was the object of it? And why on the
sly? Were you in your senses when you did it? Now that all danger is over I can
"I was awfully sick of them yesterday." Raskolnikov addressed Porfiry suddenly
with a smile of insolent defiance, "I ran away from them to take lodgings where
they wouldn't find me, and took a lot of money with me. Mr. Zametov there saw it.
I say, Mr. Zametov, was I sensible or delirious yesterday; settle our dispute."
He could have strangled Zametov at that moment, so hated were his expression
and his silence to him.
"In my opinion you talked sensibly and even artfully, but you were extremely
irritable," Zametov pronounced dryly.
"And Nikodim Fomitch was telling me to-day," put in Porfiry Petrovitch, "that
he met you very late last night in the lodging of a man who had been run over."
"And there," said Razumihin, "weren't you mad then? You gave your last penny
to the widow for the funeral. If you wanted to help, give fifteen or twenty even,
but keep three roubles for yourself at least, but he flung away all the twenty-five
"Maybe I found a treasure somewhere and you know nothing of it? So that's why
I was liberal yesterday…. Mr. Zametov knows I've found a treasure! Excuse us, please,
for disturbing you for half an hour with such trivialities," he said turning to
Porfiry Petrovitch, with trembling lips. "We are boring you, aren't we?"
"Oh no, quite the contrary, quite the contrary! If only you knew how you interest
me! It's interesting to look on and listen… and I am really glad you have come forward
"But you might give us some tea! My throat's dry," cried Razumihin.
"Capital idea! Perhaps we will all keep you company. Wouldn't you like… something
more essential before tea?"
"Get along with you!"
Porfiry Petrovitch went out to order tea.
Raskolnikov's thoughts were in a whirl. He was in terrible exasperation.