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?"
"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.
"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 … "
"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,
"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.
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.