Crime and Punishment (51 page)

‘Pyotr Petrovich!' she shouted. ‘You defend me, at least! Make this stupid creature understand that this is no way to treat a noble lady in distress, that the law exists for a reason . . . I'm going straight to the Governor General . . . She'll answer for this . . . In memory of my father's bread and salt, protect the orphans.'

‘Excuse me, ma'am . . . Do, please, excuse me,' said Pyotr Petrovich dismissively, ‘but, as you well know, I never once had the honour of meeting your papa . . . Excuse me, ma'am' – someone gave a roar of laughter – ‘but I have not the slightest intention of participating in your endless disputes with Amalia Ivanovna . . . I'm here for my own purposes . . . I should like to have words with your stepdaughter, Sofya . . . Ivanovna . . . if I'm not mistaken? Kindly let me pass, ma'am . . .'

And Pyotr Petrovich, edging past Katerina Ivanovna, made for the opposite corner, towards Sonya.

Katerina Ivanovna remained rooted to the spot, as if thunder-struck. She was simply unable to understand how Pyotr Petrovich could renounce her papa's bread and salt. Having once invented this bread and salt, she now held it as a sacred truth. She was also shocked by Pyotr Petrovich's tone: business-like, dry and filled with a kind of contemptuous menace. In fact, everyone gradually went quiet at his appearance. Leaving aside the fact that this ‘business-like and serious' man looked utterly out of place in such a crowd, it was obvious that
something important had brought him here, that only something out of the ordinary could explain his appearance in such a setting, and that, therefore, something was just about to happen. Raskolnikov, who was standing next to Sonya, made way for him; Pyotr Petrovich seemed not to notice him at all. A minute later Lebezyatnikov also appeared on the threshold. He didn't enter the room, but paused in an attitude of great curiosity, almost surprise. He was listening, but seemed unable to grasp something.

‘Forgive me if I am interrupting, but I'm here on rather important business,' Pyotr Petrovich remarked, as if to nobody in particular. ‘In fact, I'm glad there's an audience. Amalia Ivanovna, I humbly ask you, in your capacity as landlady, to pay attention to my ensuing conversation with Sofya Ivanovna. Sofya Ivanovna,' he continued, directly addressing a thoroughly astonished and already frightened Sonya, ‘immediately after your visit, in the room of my friend, Andrei Semyonovich Lebezyatnikov, a government banknote to the value of one hundred roubles disappeared from my desk. If, for any reason, you happen to know and can tell us where the note may be found, then I give you my word of honour, taking everyone here as my witness, that there the matter shall end. But should this not be the case, I shall be obliged to resort to the most serious measures, and then . . . you'll have no one to blame but yourself!'

Complete silence reigned in the room. Even the crying children fell quiet. Deathly pale, Sonya looked at Luzhin and could say nothing in reply. It was as if she hadn't understood yet. Several seconds passed.

‘Well, miss, what do you have to say?' asked Luzhin, staring straight at her.

‘I don't know . . . I don't know anything . . . ,' Sonya eventually replied in a faint voice.

‘You don't? You don't know?' Luzhin repeated and paused for a few seconds more. ‘Think it through, mademoiselle,' he began sternly, though as if he were still trying to persuade her. ‘I'm prepared to grant you more time for deliberation. Please understand that if I were not so sure, then, of course, with all my experience, I should hardly risk accusing you so directly; for such a direct and public accusation, if false or even merely erroneous, is one for which I, in a certain sense, must answer. I am only too aware of that, miss. This morning, for my own purposes, I cashed several five per cent bonds for the nominal value of three thousand roubles. I have kept a record of the transaction in my
wallet. Arriving home – Andrei Semyonovich is my witness – I began counting the money and, having counted out two thousand three hundred roubles, I put them in my wallet, and my wallet in the side-pocket of my frock coat. About five hundred roubles were left on the table, in notes, among which were three notes of one hundred roubles each. At that moment you appeared (at my summons) and spent the entire duration of your visit in a state of such extreme embarrassment that on no less than three occasions, right in the middle of our conversation, you stood up and, for some reason, were in a hurry to leave, even though we were still talking. Andrei Semyonovich can vouch for it all. I expect, mademoiselle, that you yourself will not refuse to confirm and publicly state that the only reason Andrei Semyonovich invited you on my behalf was in order that I might discuss with you the wretched and helpless plight of your relative, Katerina Ivanovna (whose banquet I was unable to attend), and how useful it would be to organize a collection or a lottery or something of the sort. You thanked me and were even moved to tears (I am relating everything as it happened, in order firstly to remind you, and secondly to show you that my memory has not smoothed out the slightest detail). Next, I took a ten-rouble banknote from the table and gave it to you, as a personal gift to help your mother, by way of an initial contribution. Andrei Semyonovich saw everything. Next, I showed you out – the embarrassment, on your side, had not lessened – after which, remaining alone with Andrei Semyonovich and talking with him for about ten minutes, Andrei Semyonovich went out, while I turned my attention back to the table and the money lying thereupon, with the aim of counting it and then putting it – as I had been planning to do – to one side. To my astonishment one of the hundred-rouble notes was missing. Kindly consider: for me to suspect Andrei Semyonovich is quite out of the question; I am ashamed of the very idea. Nor could I have made a mistake in my calculations, since I had finished counting only a minute before your arrival and found the total to be correct. You will agree that, recalling your embarrassment, your impatience to leave and the fact that your hands had, for a certain amount of time, rested on the table, and taking into consideration, when all's said and done, your social status and the habits it entails, I, however horrified and even reluctant, was, as it were,
compelled
to alight on a suspicion that may be harsh, yet is also just! Let me add and repeat that, for all my
self-evident
certainty, I understand that by making this accusation
I am, nevertheless, running a certain risk. But as you can see, I could not let it go. I reacted, and I will tell you why: solely, miss, on account of your rank ingratitude! I mean, really! I am the one who invites you over for the benefit of your impoverished relative, I am the one who offers you alms, insofar as my means permit, of ten roubles, and look how you set about repaying me! No, miss, this is no way to behave! You must be taught a lesson. Consider this well, and while you do – I'm asking you as a true friend now (for what better friend could you have at this moment?) – bethink yourself! Or else I shall be quite implacable! Well then?'

‘I've taken nothing from you,' Sonya whispered in horror. ‘You gave me ten roubles – here, have them back.' Sonya took a handkerchief from her pocket, located a small knot in it, untied it, extracted a ten-rouble note and held it out to Luzhin.

‘So you won't admit to the other hundred?' he insisted reproachfully, not taking the note.

Sonya looked around. Everyone was staring at her with such dreadful, stern, mocking, hateful expressions. She glanced over at Raskolnikov . . . He was standing by the wall, arms folded, staring at her with eyes of fire.

‘O Lord!' broke from Sonya.

‘Amalia Ivanovna, we shall have to inform the police, so may I humbly ask you, in the meantime, to send for the caretaker?' said Luzhin in a soft, even affectionate voice.

‘
Gott der Barmherzige
!
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I knew she shtole!' cried Amalia Ivanovna, throwing up her hands.

‘You knew?' echoed Luzhin. ‘Then even before you must have had grounds to think so. May I request, most esteemed Amalia Ivanovna, that you remember these words, uttered, moreover, before witnesses?'

A loud hum suddenly started up on all sides. Everyone stirred.

‘Wha-a-at?' cried Katerina Ivanovna, coming to her senses and rushing at Luzhin with a sudden burst. ‘What's that? You're accusing her of stealing? Her? Sonya? Oh, scoundrels! Scoundrels!' And rushing over to Sonya, she hugged her, vice-like, in her withered arms.

‘Sonya! How dare you take ten roubles from him? Oh, silly girl! Give it here! Give me those ten roubles right now – there!'

Snatching the note from Sonya, Katerina Ivanovna scrunched it up and flung it hard in Luzhin's face. The pellet hit him in the eye and
bounced off onto the floor. Amalia Ivanovna rushed to pick up the money. Pyotr Petrovich flew into a rage.

‘Restrain this madwoman!' he yelled.

In the doorway, at that moment, some other people appeared alongside Lebezyatnikov; among those looking in were the two ladies from the provinces.

‘What? I'm the mad one am I? Idiot!' screeched Katerina Ivanovna. ‘Yes you, you loathsome shyster! As if Sonya would take his money! Her? A thief? She'd sooner give away her own money to you, you idiot!' – and she laughed hysterically. ‘Ever seen such an idiot?' she shouted, rushing from one corner of the room to the next, pointing at Luzhin. ‘What? You too?' – she'd spotted the landlady – ‘You're at it too, are you, you sausage-maker?
29
You poxy Prussian drumstick wrapped in crinoline, claiming “she shtole”! Look at you all! She's been in the room all along – she came back from yours, you scoundrel, and sat straight down next to Rodion Romanovich! . . . Search her! Seeing as she's never been out of the room, the money must still be on her! Go on, search her! Search her! Only if nothing turns up, then I'm terribly sorry, my dear, but you'll have to answer for it! I'll go running to His Majesty, His Majesty, to the Tsar himself, Most Merciful, I'll throw myself at his feet, right now, today! I've no one left! I'll be seen! You think I won't? Rubbish! I'll be seen! I will! You were counting on her meekness, I suppose? Weren't you? But I'm plucky enough for two! You'll get burnt, my friend! Search her! Go on, then, search her!!'

In her frenzy, Katerina Ivanovna kept grabbing at Luzhin, dragging him over to Sonya.

‘I'm ready to do so and to answer for it . . . but calm down, madam, calm down! Your pluckiness is all too apparent! . . . I mean . . . really . . . whatever next?' muttered Luzhin. ‘This is a matter for the police . . . Although, I suppose there are more than enough witnesses here already . . . I'm ready, madam . . . Though in any case this is rather awkward for a man . . . on account of one's sex . . . If Amalia Ivanovna were to assist . . . although this is hardly the way to do things . . . Whatever next, ma'am?'

‘Whoever you like! Whoever wants to can search her!' shouted Katerina Ivanovna. ‘Sonya, turn your pockets out for them! There, there! Look, you monster, it's empty! The handkerchief was there and now it's empty. See? And here's the other pocket! See! See!'

Katerina Ivanovna did not so much turn the two pockets inside out as pull them out, one after the other. Suddenly, a note dropped out of the second, right-hand pocket and, tracing a curve in the air, fell at Luzhin's feet. Everyone saw it; most shrieked. Pyotr Petrovich bent down, picked the note up with two fingers from the floor, held it up for all to see and unfolded it. It was a one-hundred rouble banknote, folded to an eighth of its size. With a sweep of his arm, Pyotr Petrovich showed everyone the note.

‘Thief! Out of my premise, now! Police, police!' shrieked Amalia Ivanovna. ‘Siberia! Exile! Out!'

Shouts went up on all sides. Raskolnikov was silent, keeping his gaze fixed on Sonya with only the occasional rapid glance at Luzhin. Sonya was still standing in the same spot, as if dazed: she was barely even surprised. Suddenly the colour rushed to her face. She gave a cry and hid herself in her hands.

‘No, it's not me! I didn't take it! I don't know!' she cried in a heart-rending howl and threw herself on Katerina Ivanovna, who grabbed her and hugged her tight, as if wishing to protect her from everyone with her bosom.

‘Sonya! Sonya! I don't believe it! You see, I don't!' shouted Katerina Ivanovna (against all the evidence), rocking her vigorously in her arms, like a baby, kissing her time and again, catching her hands and almost biting them with her kisses. ‘As if you'd take it! How stupid these people are! Good Lord! You're stupid, stupid!' she cried, addressing everyone, ‘and you haven't a clue, not a clue, what sort of a heart this is, what sort of a girl this is! As if she'd take it! She'd sooner throw off her last dress, sell it, go barefoot and give away everything to you, if you needed it – that's the kind of girl she is! She only took the yellow ticket because my children – mine – were going hungry. It was for us that she sold herself! . . . Ah, husband, dear departed! See this? See this? Some funeral banquet you've had! Lord! Well, defend her then! What are you all waiting for? Rodion Romanovich! Why aren't you, of all people, standing up for her? So you believe it too, do you? You're not worth her little finger – none of you, none of you! Lord! Defend her, for goodness' sake!'

The wailing of poor, consumptive, orphaned Katerina Ivanovna seemed to have a powerful effect on her listeners. There was so much pitiful suffering in her pain-racked, withered, consumptive face, in her dried-up, blood-caked lips, in her hoarse shouting and wailing
sobs so like a child's, in her trusting and childish yet desperate plea for protection, that everyone seemed to take pity on the unfortunate woman. Pyotr Petrovich, at any rate, instantly
took pity
.