Crime and Punishment (52 page)

‘Madam! Madam!' he exclaimed in an imposing voice. ‘This fact does not concern you! No one could dare accuse you of plotting or colluding, especially when it was you who made the discovery by turning out her pockets: so you can hardly have entertained any suspicions. I am more than ready to feel pity if, as it were, beggary was the cause of Sofya Semyonovna's action. But why, mademoiselle, did you not wish to admit it? For fear of disgrace? Of taking the first step? Or perhaps you were simply flustered? That's understandable, quite understandable, miss . . . But still, why did you have to sink to such propensities? Gentlemen!' he said to all those present. ‘Gentlemen! Feeling pity and, as it were, sympathy, I am, I dare say, ready to forgive even now, notwithstanding the personal insults I have received. And may your current shame, mademoiselle, be a lesson to you for the future,' he added, turning to Sonya, ‘and for my part, I shall let everything else go and end on that note. Enough!'

Pyotr Petrovich cast a sidelong glance at Raskolnikov. Their eyes met. Raskolnikov's burning gaze was ready to incinerate him. Katerina Ivanovna, meanwhile, no longer seemed to be hearing anything: she kept hugging and kissing Sonya, as if she were mad. The children also wrapped their little arms round Sonya from every side, while Polechka – though she had not fully understood what was going on – seemed to be drowning in her tears, convulsing with sobs and burying her pretty little face, all swollen from crying, in Sonya's shoulder.

‘Despicable!' somebody suddenly boomed in the doorway.

Pyotr Petrovich looked round sharply.

‘How despicable!' Lebezyatnikov repeated, staring straight into his eyes.

Pyotr Petrovich even seemed to flinch. Everyone noticed. (And recalled it later.) Lebezyatnikov stepped into the room.

‘And you had the nerve to put me down as a witness?' he said, walking up to Pyotr Petrovich.

‘What's the meaning of this, Andrei Semyonovich? What on earth are you talking about?' mumbled Luzhin.

‘The meaning of this is that you . . . are a slanderer, that's my meaning!' said Lebezyatnikov hotly, fixing him sternly with his purblind eyes. He was dreadfully cross. Raskolnikov simply sank his eyes
into him, as if hanging on his every word and weighing them all up. Silence set in again. Pyotr Petrovich was almost flustered, especially at first.

‘If you mean me . . . ,' he began with a stutter. ‘But what's wrong with you? Are you in your right mind?'

‘I am indeed, sir, it's you who . . . Oh, you swindler! How despicable! I heard everything. I deliberately waited until I'd understood everything, because, I admit, it's not entirely logical even now . . . . But why you did all this – that is beyond me.'

‘What did I do exactly? Stop talking in these silly riddles of yours! Or maybe you've been at the vodka?'

‘If anyone's been drinking it's you, you despicable man! I never touch vodka. It doesn't agree with my convictions! Can you imagine: it was him, him, who gave this one-hundred rouble note to Sofya Semyonovna with his own hands – I saw it. I witnessed it. I'll take the oath! Him! Him!' repeated Lebezyatnikov, addressing all and sundry.

‘Have you gone completely crazy, you daft child?' shrieked Luzhin. ‘Here she is right in front of you. Here she is confirming, in front of everyone, that apart from the ten roubles she never received anything from me. So how on earth am I supposed to have given it to her?'

‘I saw it! I saw it!' Lebezyatnikov kept shouting. ‘And although it's against my convictions, I am ready, right now, to stand in court and take any oath you care to mention, because I saw you slipping it to her on the sly! Only I thought – fool that I am – that you did so as a kindness. In the doorway, saying goodbye, when she turned round and you were squeezing her hand in yours, with the other hand, the left one, you slipped the note into her pocket. I saw! I saw!'

Luzhin turned white.

‘A pack of lies!' he cried with insolent defiance. ‘How could you have spotted a note if you were standing by the window? You imagined it . . . with those purblind eyes of yours. You're raving!'

‘No, I didn't imagine it! And though I was standing far away I saw everything, everything, and even though it really is difficult to see a banknote clearly from the window – you're right about that – I, on account of a particular circumstance, knew for a fact that the note was worth a hundred roubles, because, when you were giving Sofya Semyonovna the ten-rouble note – I saw this myself – you also took a hundred-rouble note from the table (I saw this because I was standing near you at the time, and since a certain thought immediately occurred
to me I did not forget that you had it in your hand). You folded it and held it, clenched in your fist, the whole time. I'd have forgotten about it again except that when you started getting up you transferred it from your right hand to your left and very nearly dropped it; at that point I remembered again, because the very same thought occurred to me again, namely, that you wanted, without my noticing, to do her a kindness. You can imagine how closely I started watching – well, then I saw you slipping it into her pocket. I saw! I saw! I'll take the oath!'

Lebezyatnikov was almost choking. Shouts went up on all sides, most of them signalling surprise; others had a more menacing tone. Everyone crowded around Pyotr Petrovich. Katerina Ivanovna rushed to Lebezyatnikov.

‘Andrei Semyonovich! I was wrong about you! Protect her! She's got no one else! She's an orphan! You've been sent by God! Andrei Semyonovich, dear kind Andrei Semyonovich, father!'

Katerina Ivanovna, scarcely aware of what she was doing, fell to her knees before him.

‘Madness!' howled Luzhin, raging with fury. ‘Sheer madness, sir. “Forgot, remembered, forgot” – what are you talking about? So I planted it on purpose, did I? Why? To what end? What can I have in common with this . . . ?'

‘Why? Well, that's beyond me, too, but what I've told you is an honest-to-goodness fact! I'm so far from being wrong – you foul, criminal man – that I remember the exact question that immediately occurred to me, at the very moment I was thanking you and shaking your hand. Why precisely did you put it in her pocket by stealth? What I mean is, why precisely by stealth? Surely not just because you wanted to conceal it from me, knowing of my convictions to the contrary and my rejection of private charity, which never gets to the root of the problem? So I decided you really were ashamed to give her such a princely sum in front of me, and besides, I thought, perhaps he wanted to surprise her when she suddenly found all of one hundred roubles in her pocket. (Certain do-gooders take great pleasure in making a point of their kindnesses.) Then I had another thought: you wanted to test her – would she come and thank you when she found it? Then: that you wished to avoid being thanked and – how does it go? – for the right hand – or is it left? – not to know
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what the . . . well, something like that . . . Anyway, all manner of thoughts occurred to me then, so I resolved to think it all through later, but in any case I deemed it tactless to let on to you that I knew your
secret. But on the other hand, something else immediately occurred to me yet again: that Sofya Semyonovna might well lose the money before she even knew it was there; which was why I decided to come here, to summon her and inform her that someone had put a hundred roubles in her pocket. In passing, I called in on the Kobylyatnikov ladies first, to drop off
The General Conclusion of the Positive Method
,
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recommending Piderit's article in particular (and Wagner's, too, come to mention it); then I arrived here and just look what I found! I mean, honestly, how, how could I have come up with all these ideas and arguments if I really hadn't seen you put a hundred roubles in her pocket?'

When Andrei Semyonovich reached the end of his long-winded argument, concluded in so logical a fashion, he was dreadfully tired and the sweat was pouring off him. Alas, he wasn't even able to express himself decently in Russian (though it was the only language he knew); all the stuffing had suddenly been knocked out of him, and he even looked thinner after his feat of advocacy. Nevertheless, his speech had an extraordinary effect. He spoke so fearlessly and with such conviction that everyone clearly believed him. Pyotr Petrovich realized he was in trouble.

‘What do I care about idiotic questions that may or may not have occurred to you?' he cried. ‘What kind of proof is that? You might have dreamt it all up in your sleep for all I know! In fact, sir, you're lying! You're lying and slandering because you're angry with me about something, and I even know what it is you're so cross about: that I wouldn't agree to your free-thinking, godless proposals for society!'

But this ploy did not help Pyotr Petrovich. On the contrary, grumbling could be heard on all sides.

‘Nice try!' shouted Lebezyatnikov. ‘Liar! Call the police! I'll take an oath! But what I can't understand is: why take the risk of sinking so low? Oh, you pathetic wretch!'

‘I can explain why he took such a risk and, if need be, I'll take an oath!' uttered Raskolnikov at last in a firm voice, and stepped forward.

He seemed calm and certain. Somehow everyone realized, just by looking at him, that he really did know what had happened and that the climax was fast approaching.

‘It all makes perfect sense to me now,' Raskolnikov went on, addressing Lebezyatnikov directly. ‘I suspected foul play right from the start. I suspected it in view of certain particular circumstances known only
to me, which I will now explain to everyone: they're the key to it all! And now, Andrei Semyonovich, your priceless testimony has cleared everything up for me once and for all. I ask everyone, everyone to listen closely: this gentleman' (he pointed at Luzhin) ‘recently became engaged to a girl, and specifically to my sister, Avdotya Romanovna Raskolnikova. But on arriving in Petersburg he picked an argument with me at our very first meeting, the day before yesterday, and I threw him out, as two witnesses will confirm. This man is terribly angry . . . Two days ago I still didn't know he was lodging here with you, Andrei Semyonovich, and that, therefore, on the very same day of our argument, that is, the day before yesterday, he witnessed how I, as a friend of the late Mr Marmeladov, gave some money to his spouse, Katerina Ivanovna, for the funeral. He immediately dashed off a note to my mother to inform her that I had given all the money away not to Katerina Ivanovna, but to Sofya Semyonovna; not only that, he referred, in the most odious terms to . . . to Sofya Semyonovna's character, or rather, he alluded to the character of my relationship to Sofya Semyonovna. All this, you'll understand, was intended to set my mother and sister against me, by giving them to understand that I was squandering the money they'd sent me, their very last roubles, in the most disgraceful fashion. Yesterday evening, before my mother and sister, and in his presence, I established the truth of the matter, proving that I gave the money to Katerina Ivanovna for the funeral, and not to Sofya Semyonovna, and that the day before yesterday I hadn't even met Sofya Semyonovna and had never even seen her. I also added that he, Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin, for all his qualities, was not worth the little finger of Sofya Semyonovna, whom he spoke of so disapprovingly. As for his question – would I sit Sofya Semyonovna next to my sister? – I replied that I'd already done so, earlier the same day. Angered by the fact that his slanders failed to set my mother and sister against me, he started saying the most outrageous, unforgivable things to them. That was the last straw and he was thrown out for good. All of this happened yesterday evening. Now, please listen closely: imagine for a moment that he'd succeeded just now in proving that Sofya Semyonovna was a thief, then, first of all, he would have proved to my sister and mother that his suspicions were not without foundation; that he had had every reason to be angry at my placing my sister on a level with Sofya Semyonovna; that in attacking me he had thereby defended and protected my sister's – and his fiancée's – honour. In short, he might even have managed to set my family against me again,
while hoping, needless to say, to get back in their good books. I haven't even mentioned the fact that he had scores to settle with me personally, because he has grounds to assume that Sofya Semyonovna's honour and happiness are very dear to me. That's what he was after! That's how I understand this business! And that's all there is to it!'

Thus, more or less, did Raskolnikov end his speech, one frequently interrupted by the cries of the public, which, nevertheless, listened very attentively. Despite these interruptions, he spoke tersely, calmly, precisely, clearly, firmly. The terseness of his voice, the conviction in his tone and the severity of his expression had an extraordinary effect on everyone.

‘Yes, that's it. That's it!' Lebezyatnikov ecstatically confirmed. ‘That must be right, because the moment Sofya Semyonovna entered our room he specifically asked me: “Is he here? Did you see him among Katerina Ivanovna's guests?” He called me over to the window to ask me that, in a hushed voice. So for him it was crucial that you should be here! That's it! That's exactly it!'

Luzhin said nothing, smiling contemptuously. But he was very pale. He looked as if he were trying to think up some ruse to save his skin. He might have been only too pleased to drop everything and leave, but right now that was more or less impossible. It meant openly acknowledging that the charges levelled against him were fair and that he had indeed slandered Sofya Semyonovna. And anyway, the public, which was tipsy enough already, was far too restless. The quartermaster, though a little confused about everything, shouted loudest of all and proposed some highly unpleasant measures for dealing with Luzhin. But not everyone was drunk; people had been pouring in from every room. The three Poles were terribly excited and kept shouting ‘
Panie łajdak
!
'
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at him and muttering various threats in Polish. Sonya was straining to catch every word, but she, too, seemed to be struggling to understand it all, as though she were waking from a faint. Never once did she take her eyes off Raskolnikov, sensing that only he could protect her. Katerina Ivanovna's breathing was heavy and hoarse; she seemed utterly exhausted. And no one looked more stupid than Amalia Ivanovna, standing there with her mouth open and understanding precisely nothing. All she knew was that Pyotr Petrovich was in a fix. Raskolnikov wanted to speak again, but he wasn't able to finish: everyone was shouting and crowding round Luzhin with curses and threats. But Pyotr Petrovich held his nerve. Seeing that he had lost his case against Sonya hands down, he resorted to insolence.