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Chapter 2

  • Razumihin waked up next morning at eight o'clock, troubled and serious. H_ound himself confronted with many new and unlooked-for perplexities. He ha_ever expected that he would ever wake up feeling like that. He remembere_very detail of the previous day and he knew that a perfectly novel experienc_ad befallen him, that he had received an impression unlike anything he ha_nown before. At the same time he recognised clearly that the dream which ha_ired his imagination was hopelessly unattainable—so unattainable that he fel_ositively ashamed of it, and he hastened to pass to the other more practica_ares and difficulties bequeathed him by that "thrice accursed yesterday."
  • The most awful recollection of the previous day was the way he had show_imself "base and mean," not only because he had been drunk, but because h_ad taken advantage of the young girl's position to abuse her fiancé in hi_tupid jealousy, knowing nothing of their mutual relations and obligations an_ext to nothing of the man himself. And what right had he to criticise him i_hat hasty and unguarded manner? Who had asked for his opinion? Was i_hinkable that such a creature as Avdotya Romanovna would be marrying a_nworthy man for money? So there must be something in him. The lodgings? Bu_fter all how could he know the character of the lodgings? He was furnishing _lat … Foo! how despicable it all was! And what justification was it that h_as drunk? Such a stupid excuse was even more degrading! In wine is truth, an_he truth had all come out, "that is, all the uncleanness of his coarse an_nvious heart"! And would such a dream ever be permissible to him, Razumihin?
  • What was he beside such a girl—he, the drunken noisy braggart of last night?
  • Was it possible to imagine so absurd and cynical a juxtaposition? Razumihi_lushed desperately at the very idea and suddenly the recollection force_tself vividly upon him of how he had said last night on the stairs that th_andlady would be jealous of Avdotya Romanovna … that was simply intolerable.
  • He brought his fist down heavily on the kitchen stove, hurt his hand and sen_ne of the bricks flying.
  • "Of course," he muttered to himself a minute later with a feeling of self- abasement, "of course, all these infamies can never be wiped out or smoothe_ver … and so it's useless even to think of it, and I must go to them i_ilence and do my duty … in silence, too … and not ask forgiveness, and sa_othing … for all is lost now!"
  • And yet as he dressed he examined his attire more carefully than usual. H_adn't another suit—if he had had, perhaps he wouldn't have put it on. "_ould have made a point of not putting it on." But in any case he could no_emain a cynic and a dirty sloven; he had no right to offend the feelings o_thers, especially when they were in need of his assistance and asking him t_ee them. He brushed his clothes carefully. His linen was always decent; i_hat respect he was especially clean.
  • He washed that morning scrupulously—he got some soap from Nastasya— he washe_is hair, his neck and especially his hands. When it came to the questio_hether to shave his stubbly chin or not (Praskovya Pavlovna had capita_azors that had been left by her late husband), the question was angril_nswered in the negative. "Let it stay as it is! What if they think that _haved on purpose to … ? They certainly would think so! Not on any account!"
  • "And … the worst of it was he was so coarse, so dirty, he had the manners of _othouse; and … and even admitting that he knew he had some of the essential_f a gentleman … what was there in that to be proud of? Everyone ought to be _entleman and more than that … and all the same (he remembered) he, too, ha_one little things … not exactly dishonest, and yet… . And what thoughts h_ometimes had; hm … and to set all that beside Avdotya Romanovna! Confound it!
  • So be it! Well, he'd make a point then of being dirty, greasy, pothouse in hi_anners and he wouldn't care! He'd be worse!"
  • He was engaged in such monologues when Zossimov, who had spent the night i_raskovya Pavlovna's parlour, came in.
  • He was going home and was in a hurry to look at the invalid first. Razumihi_nformed him that Raskolnikov was sleeping like a dormouse. Zossimov gav_rders that they shouldn't wake him and promised to see him again abou_leven.
  • "If he is still at home," he added. "Damn it all! If one can't control one'_atients, how is one to cure them? Do you know whether he will go to them, o_hether they are coming here?"
  • "They are coming, I think," said Razumihin, understanding the object of th_uestion, "and they will discuss their family affairs, no doubt. I'll be off.
  • You, as the doctor, have more right to be here than I."
  • "But I am not a father confessor; I shall come and go away; I've plenty to d_esides looking after them."
  • "One thing worries me," interposed Razumihin, frowning. "On the way home _alked a lot of drunken nonsense to him … all sorts of things … and amongs_hem that you were afraid that he … might become insane."
  • "You told the ladies so, too."
  • "I know it was stupid! You may beat me if you like! Did you think s_eriously?"
  • "That's nonsense, I tell you, how could I think it seriously? You, yourself, described him as a monomaniac when you fetched me to him … and we added fue_o the fire yesterday, you did, that is, with your story about the painter; i_as a nice conversation, when he was, perhaps, mad on that very point! If onl_'d known what happened then at the police station and that some wretch … ha_nsulted him with this suspicion! Hm … I would not have allowed tha_onversation yesterday. These monomaniacs will make a mountain out of a mole- hill … and see their fancies as solid realities… . As far as I remember, i_as Zametov's story that cleared up half the mystery, to my mind. Why, I kno_ne case in which a hypochondriac, a man of forty, cut the throat of a littl_oy of eight, because he couldn't endure the jokes he made every day at table!
  • And in this case his rags, the insolent police officer, the fever and thi_uspicion! All that working upon a man half frantic with hypochondria, an_ith his morbid exceptional vanity! That may well have been the starting-poin_f illness. Well, bother it all! … And, by the way, that Zametov certainly i_ nice fellow, but hm … he shouldn't have told all that last night. He is a_wful chatterbox!"
  • "But whom did he tell it to? You and me?"
  • "And Porfiry."
  • "What does that matter?"
  • "And, by the way, have you any influence on them, his mother and sister? Tel_hem to be more careful with him to-day… ."
  • "They'll get on all right!" Razumihin answered reluctantly.
  • "Why is he so set against this Luzhin? A man with money and she doesn't see_o dislike him … and they haven't a farthing, I suppose? eh?"
  • "But what business is it of yours?" Razumihin cried with annoyance. "How can _ell whether they've a farthing? Ask them yourself and perhaps you'll fin_ut… ."
  • "Foo! what an ass you are sometimes! Last night's wine has not gone off yet… .
  • Good-bye; thank your Praskovya Pavlovna from me for my night's lodging. Sh_ocked herself in, made no reply to my bonjour through the door; she was up a_even o'clock, the samovar was taken into her from the kitchen. I was no_ouchsafed a personal interview… ."
  • At nine o'clock precisely Razumihin reached the lodgings at Bakaleyev's house.
  • Both ladies were waiting for him with nervous impatience. They had risen a_even o'clock or earlier. He entered looking as black as night, bowe_wkwardly and was at once furious with himself for it. He had reckoned withou_is host: Pulcheria Alexandrovna fairly rushed at him, seized him by bot_ands and was almost kissing them. He glanced timidly at Avdotya Romanovna, but her proud countenance wore at that moment an expression of such gratitud_nd friendliness, such complete and unlooked-for respect (in place of th_neering looks and ill-disguised contempt he had expected), that it threw hi_nto greater confusion than if he had been met with abuse. Fortunately ther_as a subject for conversation, and he made haste to snatch at it.
  • Hearing that everything was going well and that Rodya had not yet waked, Pulcheria Alexandrovna declared that she was glad to hear it, because "she ha_omething which it was very, very necessary to talk over beforehand." The_ollowed an inquiry about breakfast and an invitation to have it with them; they had waited to have it with him. Avdotya Romanovna rang the bell: it wa_nswered by a ragged dirty waiter, and they asked him to bring tea which wa_erved at last, but in such a dirty and disorderly way that the ladies wer_shamed. Razumihin vigorously attacked the lodgings, but, remembering Luzhin, stopped in embarrassment and was greatly relieved by Pulcheria Alexandrovna'_uestions, which showered in a continual stream upon him.
  • He talked for three quarters of an hour, being constantly interrupted by thei_uestions, and succeeded in describing to them all the most important facts h_new of the last year of Raskolnikov's life, concluding with a circumstantia_ccount of his illness. He omitted, however, many things, which were bette_mitted, including the scene at the police station with all its consequences.
  • They listened eagerly to his story, and, when he thought he had finished an_atisfied his listeners, he found that they considered he had hardly begun.
  • "Tell me, tell me! What do you think …  ? Excuse me, I still don't know you_ame!" Pulcheria Alexandrovna put in hastily.
  • "Dmitri Prokofitch."
  • "I should like very, very much to know, Dmitri Prokofitch … how he looks … o_hings in general now, that is, how can I explain, what are his likes an_islikes? Is he always so irritable? Tell me, if you can, what are his hope_nd, so to say, his dreams? Under what influences is he now? In a word, _hould like … "
  • "Ah, mother, how can he answer all that at once?" observed Dounia.
  • "Good heavens, I had not expected to find him in the least like this, Dmitr_rokofitch!"
  • "Naturally," answered Razumihin. "I have no mother, but my uncle comes ever_ear and almost every time he can scarcely recognise me, even in appearance, though he is a clever man; and your three years' separation means a grea_eal. What am I to tell you? I have known Rodion for a year and a half; he i_orose, gloomy, proud and haughty, and of late—and perhaps for a long tim_efore—he has been suspicious and fanciful. He has a noble nature and a kin_eart. He does not like showing his feelings and would rather do a cruel thin_han open his heart freely. Sometimes, though, he is not at all morbid, bu_imply cold and inhumanly callous; it's as though he were alternating betwee_wo characters. Sometimes he is fearfully reserved! He says he is so busy tha_verything is a hindrance, and yet he lies in bed doing nothing. He doesn'_eer at things, not because he hasn't the wit, but as though he hadn't time t_aste on such trifles. He never listens to what is said to him. He is neve_nterested in what interests other people at any given moment. He thinks ver_ighly of himself and perhaps he is right. Well, what more? I think you_rrival will have a most beneficial influence upon him."
  • "God grant it may," cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna, distressed by Razumihin'_ccount of her Rodya.
  • And Razumihin ventured to look more boldly at Avdotya Romanovna at last. H_lanced at her often while he was talking, but only for a moment and looke_way again at once. Avdotya Romanovna sat at the table, listening attentively, then got up again and began walking to and fro with her arms folded and he_ips compressed, occasionally putting in a question, without stopping he_alk. She had the same habit of not listening to what was said. She wa_earing a dress of thin dark stuff and she had a white transparent scarf roun_er neck. Razumihin soon detected signs of extreme poverty in thei_elongings. Had Avdotya Romanovna been dressed like a queen, he felt that h_ould not be afraid of her, but perhaps just because she was poorly dresse_nd that he noticed all the misery of her surroundings, his heart was fille_ith dread and he began to be afraid of every word he uttered, every gestur_e made, which was very trying for a man who already felt diffident.
  • "You've told us a great deal that is interesting about my brother's character … and have told it impartially. I am glad. I thought that you were to_ncritically devoted to him," observed Avdotya Romanovna with a smile. "_hink you are right that he needs a woman's care," she added thoughtfully.
  • "I didn't say so; but I daresay you are right, only … "
  • "What?"
  • "He loves no one and perhaps he never will," Razumihin declared decisively.
  • "You mean he is not capable of love?"
  • "Do you know, Avdotya Romanovna, you are awfully like your brother, i_verything, indeed!" he blurted out suddenly to his own surprise, bu_emembering at once what he had just before said of her brother, he turned a_ed as a crab and was overcome with confusion. Avdotya Romanovna couldn't hel_aughing when she looked at him.
  • "You may both be mistaken about Rodya," Pulcheria Alexandrovna remarked, slightly piqued. "I am not talking of our present difficulty, Dounia. Wha_yotr Petrovitch writes in this letter and what you and I have supposed may b_istaken, but you can't imagine, Dmitri Prokofitch, how moody and, so to say, capricious he is. I never could depend on what he would do when he was onl_ifteen. And I am sure that he might do something now that nobody else woul_hink of doing … Well, for instance, do you know how a year and a half ago h_stounded me and gave me a shock that nearly killed me, when he had the ide_f marrying that girl—what was her name—his landlady's daughter?"
  • "Did you hear about that affair?" asked Avdotya Romanovna.
  • "Do you suppose——" Pulcheria Alexandrovna continued warmly. "Do you suppos_hat my tears, my entreaties, my illness, my possible death from grief, ou_overty would have made him pause? No, he would calmly have disregarded al_bstacles. And yet it isn't that he doesn't love us!"
  • "He has never spoken a word of that affair to me," Razumihin answere_autiously. "But I did hear something from Praskovya Pavlovna herself, thoug_he is by no means a gossip. And what I heard certainly was rather strange."
  • "And what did you hear?" both the ladies asked at once.
  • "Well, nothing very special. I only learned that the marriage, which onl_ailed to take place through the girl's death, was not at all to Praskovy_avlovna's liking. They say, too, the girl was not at all pretty, in fact I a_old positively ugly … and such an invalid … and queer. But she seems to hav_ad some good qualities. She must have had some good qualities or it's quit_nexplicable… . She had no money either and he wouldn't have considered he_oney… . But it's always difficult to judge in such matters."
  • "I am sure she was a good girl," Avdotya Romanovna observed briefly.
  • "God forgive me, I simply rejoiced at her death. Though I don't know which o_hem would have caused most misery to the other—he to her or she to him,"
  • Pulcheria Alexandrovna concluded. Then she began tentatively questioning hi_bout the scene on the previous day with Luzhin, hesitating and continuall_lancing at Dounia, obviously to the latter's annoyance. This incident mor_han all the rest evidently caused her uneasiness, even consternation.
  • Razumihin described it in detail again, but this time he added his ow_onclusions: he openly blamed Raskolnikov for intentionally insulting Pyot_etrovitch, not seeking to excuse him on the score of his illness.
  • "He had planned it before his illness," he added.
  • "I think so, too," Pulcheria Alexandrovna agreed with a dejected air. But sh_as very much surprised at hearing Razumihin express himself so carefully an_ven with a certain respect about Pyotr Petrovitch. Avdotya Romanovna, too, was struck by it.
  • "So this is your opinion of Pyotr Petrovitch?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna coul_ot resist asking.
  • "I can have no other opinion of your daughter's future husband," Razumihi_nswered firmly and with warmth, "and I don't say it simply from vulga_oliteness, but because … simply because Avdotya Romanovna has of her own fre_ill deigned to accept this man. If I spoke so rudely of him last night, i_as because I was disgustingly drunk and … mad besides; yes, mad, crazy, _ost my head completely … and this morning I am ashamed of it."
  • He crimsoned and ceased speaking. Avdotya Romanovna flushed, but did not brea_he silence. She had not uttered a word from the moment they began to speak o_uzhin.
  • Without her support Pulcheria Alexandrovna obviously did not know what to do.
  • At last, faltering and continually glancing at her daughter, she confesse_hat she was exceedingly worried by one circumstance.
  • "You see, Dmitri Prokofitch," she began. "I'll be perfectly open with Dmitr_rokofitch, Dounia?"
  • "Of course, mother," said Avdotya Romanovna emphatically.
  • "This is what it is," she began in haste, as though the permission to speak o_er trouble lifted a weight off her mind. "Very early this morning we got _ote from Pyotr Petrovitch in reply to our letter announcing our arrival. H_romised to meet us at the station, you know; instead of that he sent _ervant to bring us the address of these lodgings and to show us the way; an_e sent a message that he would be here himself this morning. But this mornin_his note came from him. You'd better read it yourself; there is one point i_t which worries me very much … you will soon see what that is, and … tell m_our candid opinion, Dmitri Prokofitch! You know Rodya's character better tha_nyone and no one can advise us better than you can. Dounia, I must tell you, made her decision at once, but I still don't feel sure how to act and I … I'v_een waiting for your opinion."
  • Razumihin opened the note which was dated the previous evening and read a_ollows:
  • "Dear Madam, Pulcheria Alexandrovna, I have the honour to inform you tha_wing to unforeseen obstacles I was rendered unable to meet you at the railwa_tation; I sent a very competent person with the same object in view. _ikewise shall be deprived of the honour of an interview with you to-morro_orning by business in the Senate that does not admit of delay, and also tha_ may not intrude on your family circle while you are meeting your son, an_vdotya Romanovna her brother. I shall have the honour of visiting you an_aying you my respects at your lodgings not later than to-morrow evening a_ight o'clock precisely, and herewith I venture to present my earnest and, _ay add, imperative request that Rodion Romanovitch may not be present at ou_nterview—as he offered me a gross and unprecedented affront on the occasio_f my visit to him in his illness yesterday, and, moreover, since I desir_rom you personally an indispensable and circumstantial explanation upon _ertain point, in regard to which I wish to learn your own interpretation. _ave the honour to inform you, in anticipation, that if, in spite of m_equest, I meet Rodion Romanovitch, I shall be compelled to withdra_mmediately and then you have only yourself to blame. I write on th_ssumption that Rodion Romanovitch who appeared so ill at my visit, suddenl_ecovered two hours later and so, being able to leave the house, may visit yo_lso. I was confirmed in that belief by the testimony of my own eyes in th_odging of a drunken man who was run over and has since died, to whos_aughter, a young woman of notorious behaviour, he gave twenty-five roubles o_he pretext of the funeral, which gravely surprised me knowing what pains yo_ere at to raise that sum. Herewith expressing my special respect to you_stimable daughter, Avdotya Romanovna, I beg you to accept the respectfu_omage of
  • "Your humble servant,
  • "P. LUZHIN."
  • "What am I to do now, Dmitri Prokofitch?" began Pulcheria Alexandrovna, almos_eeping. "How can I ask Rodya not to come? Yesterday he insisted so earnestl_n our refusing Pyotr Petrovitch and now we are ordered not to receive Rodya!
  • He will come on purpose if he knows, and … what will happen then?"
  • "Act on Avdotya Romanovna's decision," Razumihin answered calmly at once.
  • "Oh, dear me! She says … goodness knows what she says, she doesn't explain he_bject! She says that it would be best, at least, not that it would be best, but that it's absolutely necessary that Rodya should make a point of bein_ere at eight o'clock and that they must meet… . I didn't want even to sho_im the letter, but to prevent him from coming by some stratagem with you_elp … because he is so irritable… . Besides I don't understand about tha_runkard who died and that daughter, and how he could have given the daughte_ll the money … which … "
  • "Which cost you such sacrifice, mother," put in Avdotya Romanovna.
  • "He was not himself yesterday," Razumihin said thoughtfully, "if you only kne_hat he was up to in a restaurant yesterday, though there was sense in it too… . Hm! He did say something, as we were going home yesterday evening, about _ead man and a girl, but I didn't understand a word… . But last night, _yself … "
  • "The best thing, mother, will be for us to go to him ourselves and there _ssure you we shall see at once what's to be done. Besides, it's gettin_ate—good heavens, it's past ten," she cried looking at a splendid gol_namelled watch which hung round her neck on a thin Venetian chain, and looke_ntirely out of keeping with the rest of her dress. "A present from he_iancé," thought Razumihin.
  • "We must start, Dounia, we must start," her mother cried in a flutter. "H_ill be thinking we are still angry after yesterday, from our coming so late.
  • Merciful heavens!"
  • While she said this she was hurriedly putting on her hat and mantle; Dounia, too, put on her things. Her gloves, as Razumihin noticed, were not merel_habby but had holes in them, and yet this evident poverty gave the two ladie_n air of special dignity, which is always found in people who know how t_ear poor clothes. Razumihin looked reverently at Dounia and felt proud o_scorting her. "The queen who mended her stockings in prison," he thought,
  • "must have looked then every inch a queen and even more a queen than a_umptuous banquets and levées."
  • "My God!" exclaimed Pulcheria Alexandrovna, "little did I think that I shoul_ver fear seeing my son, my darling, darling Rodya! I am afraid, Dmitr_rokofitch," she added, glancing at him timidly.
  • "Don't be afraid, mother," said Dounia, kissing her, "better have faith i_im."
  • "Oh, dear, I have faith in him, but I haven't slept all night," exclaimed th_oor woman.
  • They came out into the street.
  • "Do you know, Dounia, when I dozed a little this morning I dreamed of Marf_etrovna … she was all in white … she came up to me, took my hand, and shoo_er head at me, but so sternly as though she were blaming me… . Is that a goo_men? Oh, dear me! You don't know, Dmitri Prokofitch, that Marfa Petrovna'_ead!"
  • "No, I didn't know; who is Marfa Petrovna?"
  • "She died suddenly; and only fancy … "
  • "Afterwards, mamma," put in Dounia. "He doesn't know who Marfa Petrovna is."
  • "Ah, you don't know? And I was thinking that you knew all about us. Forgiv_e, Dmitri Prokofitch, I don't know what I am thinking about these last fe_ays. I look upon you really as a providence for us, and so I took it fo_ranted that you knew all about us. I look on you as a relation… . Don't b_ngry with me for saying so. Dear me, what's the matter with your right hand?
  • Have you knocked it?"
  • "Yes, I bruised it," muttered Razumihin overjoyed.
  • "I sometimes speak too much from the heart, so that Dounia finds fault wit_e… . But, dear me, what a cupboard he lives in! I wonder whether he is awake?
  • Does this woman, his landlady, consider it a room? Listen, you say he does no_ike to show his feelings, so perhaps I shall annoy him with my … weaknesses?
  • Do advise me, Dmitri Prokofitch, how am I to treat him? I feel quit_istracted, you know."
  • "Don't question him too much about anything if you see him frown; don't as_im too much about his health; he doesn't like that."
  • "Ah, Dmitri Prokofitch, how hard it is to be a mother! But here are th_tairs… . What an awful staircase!"
  • "Mother, you are quite pale, don't distress yourself, darling," said Douni_aressing her, then with flashing eyes she added: "He ought to be happy a_eeing you, and you are tormenting yourself so."
  • "Wait, I'll peep in and see whether he has waked up."
  • The ladies slowly followed Razumihin, who went on before, and when the_eached the landlady's door on the fourth storey, they noticed that her doo_as a tiny crack open and that two keen black eyes were watching them from th_arkness within. When their eyes met, the door was suddenly shut with such _lam that Pulcheria Alexandrovna almost cried out.