Crime and Punishment (56 page)

‘That is not entirely just, Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, especially not at the present moment, when tidings have arrived concerning the three thousand roubles bequeathed by Marfa Petrovna, tidings most opportune, it would appear, given the new tone in which you have begun to address me,’ he added, bitingly.

‘If that remark is anything to go by, one can really only
suppose that you've been calculating on our helplessness,’ Dunya observed in irritation.

‘Well, now at any rate I can make no such calculations, and I am particularly anxious not to impede the divulging of the confidential proposals emanating from the person of Arkady Ivanovich Svidrigailov, proposals he has entrusted to your brother and which, I see, may be of fundamental and possibly agreeable significance to you.’

‘Oh, good heavens!’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna exclaimed.

Razumikhin could not keep still on his chair.

‘Don't you feel ashamed now, sister?’ Raskolnikov asked.

‘Yes I do, Rodya,’ Dunya said. ‘Pyotr Petrovich, get out of here!’ she said to him, pale with anger.

Pyotr Petrovich, it seemed, had not at all expected such an ending to the scene. He had too much self-confidence, too much belief in his own power and in the helplessness of his victims. Even now he could not quite believe it. He turned pale, and his lips began to quiver.

‘Avdotya Romanovna, if I go out of that door now, with parting words like those, then – of this you may be certain – I shall never return. Think about it carefully! My word is my bond.’

‘What effrontery!’ Dunya exclaimed, getting up quickly. ‘Why, I don't want you to return!’

‘What? So tha-a-at's it!’ Luzhin shouted, right up to the last moment unable to believe in the possibility of such a dénouement, and therefore now totally at a loss. ‘So
that
's it! But you know, Avdotya Romanovna, I may fight this in court.’

‘What right do you have to speak to her like that?’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna said, heatedly intervening. ‘What case can you possibly have against her? And what rights do you have, anyway? Do you think I would give my Dunya to a man like you? Go away, leave us alone! We ourselves are to blame for having agreed to a bad arrangement, and I am the one who bears the most guilt…’

‘You don't say, Pulkheria Aleksandrovna!’ Luzhin cried in a rabid turmoil of fury. ‘But you know, you have bound me by your word, which you are now breaking… and, what is more,
what is more, I have, as it were, been involved in certain expenses…’

This final complaint was so characteristic of Pyotr Petrovich that Raskolnikov, pale with anger and the effort of repressing it, suddenly could contain himself no longer and – burst out laughing. Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, however, lost her temper entirely:

‘Expenses? What expenses? I suppose you mean our trunk? But you know very well that the guard took it on the train for nothing. Good Lord, you say we've bound you! I think you ought to bear in mind, Pyotr Petrovich, that it's you who have bound us hand and foot – not the other way round!’

‘That's enough, mother – please, that's enough!’ Avdotya Romanovna implored her. ‘Pyotr Petrovich – be so kind as to leave!’

‘Very well, madam – but one last word before I do!’ he said, no longer quite in control of himself. ‘Your mother would appear to have completely forgotten that I ventured to take you, as it were, in the face of the rumours that were being passed around town and had spread over the entire neighbourhood concerning your reputation. By thus spurning public opinion for your sake and by re-establishing your good name, I believe I might most, most possibly be within my rights in expecting something in return from you, and even in demanding your gratitude… Only now my eyes have been opened! I myself see that I may have acted most, most unwisely in neglecting the public voice…’

‘Does he want his head broken, or what?’ Razumikhin shouted, leaping up from his chair and already preparing to administer retribution.

‘You're a base and wicked man!’ said Dunya.

‘That will do now! No more gestures!’ Raskolnikov exclaimed, holding Razumikhin back; then he went right up to Luzhin, so that their faces almost touched.

‘Be so good as to get out of here!’ he said, quietly and distinctly. ‘And not another word, otherwise…’

For a few seconds Luzhin stared at him with features that were pale and twisted with hostile rage. Then he turned and went out, and it is possible that no man ever bore within his heart
so much violent hatred for another human being as this man did for Raskolnikov. It was Raskolnikov, and Raskolnikov alone, whom he blamed for everything. It is worth noting that, even as he made his way downstairs, he still fancied that his cause might not yet be entirely lost, and that, in the case of the ladies, at least, might ‘most, most possibly’ be capable of rectification.

The truth of the matter was that right up to the last moment he had never even dreamt that such a dénouement might be possible. He had bullied his way to the very limit, and it had never once entered his head that two impoverished and defenceless women might be able to escape from his power. His certainty on this account had been much assisted by vanity and a degree of self-confidence that might better be termed self-conceit. Pyotr Petrovich, who had fought his way up from nowhere, was in the morbid habit of admiring himself, had a high opinion of his own intelligence and ability, and would even on occasion, when alone, admire his own face in the mirror. What he cherished and valued more highly than anything else in the world, however, was his money, which he had acquired by hard work and by all kinds of means: it put him on an equal footing with all that was above him.

In recalling to Dunya with bitterness just then that he had ventured to take her in spite of the negative rumours there had been about her, Pyotr Petrovich had been speaking perfectly seriously, and had experienced a deep sense of indignation at such ‘flagrant ingratitude’. As a matter of fact, however, at the time of making his proposal to Dunya he had been fully convinced of the absurdity of all these rumours, which had been publicly refuted by Marfa Petrovna and had long been forgotten by all the inhabitants of the unpleasant little town, who had come out warmly on Dunya's side. He himself would not now have denied that he had known all that even at the time. Nevertheless, he had set a high price on his determination to raise Dunya to his own exalted level, viewing it as a noble deed.
In mentioning it to her just then he had been expressing a most secret, cherished thought of his, one that he had several times admired in private to himself; he was unable to comprehend how others could fail to admire it, too. On presenting his visiting credentials to Raskolnikov the day before he had made his entrance with the sense of being a benefactor, preparing to harvest the fruits of his endeavour and to receive the very sweetest of compliments. And so it was natural that now, as he descended the staircase, he considered himself to have been spurned and insulted in the very highest degree.

The plain fact was that Dunya was essential to him; he found it unthinkable that he should forgo her. For a long time, several years now, he had been entertaining voluptuous dreams of marriage, but had kept piling up his money and waiting. He had thought with rapture in deepest secret of a chaste and poor young girl (she must be poor), very young, very pretty, well-mannered and well brought up, very intimidated, who had experienced a great many misfortunes and would now be wholly at his bidding, the kind of girl who all her life would consider him her salvation, go in awe of him, subordinate herself to him, wonder at him, at him and him alone. How many scenes, how many delightful episodes had he created in his imagination on this alluring and whimsical theme as he rested quietly from his business affairs! And then suddenly the dream of all those years had almost come true: Avdotya Romanovna's beauty and education had impressed him; her helpless situation had excited him beyond all measure. Here there was even more than he had dreamed of: the girl who had appeared was proud, full of character, virtuous, superior to him in education and upbringing (he sensed this), and yet this creature would view him with servile gratitude all her life for his noble deed, reverentially effacing herself before him, and he would have unlimited and exclusive power over her!… Almost as if in accordance with some plan, not long before, after lengthy deliberations and calculations, he had finally decided to change his career and to enter upon a wider arena of activity, while at the same time little by little making his way into a higher echelon of society, something he had been thinking voluptuous thoughts
about for a long time… He had, in short, decided to ‘have a stab at St Petersburg’. He knew that with women it was ‘most, most possible’ to gain a great deal. The charm of a lovely, virtuous and educated woman could gild his path in the most remarkable fashion, draw people to him, create an aura around him… and now all that had collapsed about his ears! The sudden, outrageous severing of bonds that had just taken place had an effect on him like a clap of thunder. This was some monstrous joke, an absurdity! He had done the merest amount of bullying; he had not even managed to say all he had intended to say; all he had done was make a few jests, follow the spirit of the moment – and it had all ended so seriously! Then there was the fact that he did, after all, love Dunya in his own way, he already had power over her in his dreams – and now suddenly!… No! Tomorrow, tomorrow all this would have to be repaired, remedied, put right, and above all – that overgrown urchin, that arrogant milksop whose fault it all was would have to be annihilated once and for all. With a sensation of pain he remembered, somehow in spite of himself, Razumikhin… but he soon put his mind at rest on that account: ‘He can go down the drain together with him!’ But the person he was really afraid of was – Svidrigailov… In short, much trouble lay ahead…

‘No, I'm the one who's most to blame!’ Dunya said, embracing her mother and kissing her. ‘I was tempted by his money, but I swear to you, brother – I had no idea he was such an unworthy man. If I had seen him for what he was earlier I should not have been tempted for anything in the world! Please don't hold it against me, brother!’

‘God has spared us! God has spared us!’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna muttered, but almost unconsciously, as though she had not quite realized the full extent of what had happened.

They all felt a sense of relief, and after five minutes had passed were even laughing. Only occasionally did Dunya turn pale and frown as she remembered what had taken place. Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, too, had never imagined that she would feel
like this; only that morning the prospect of a break with Luzhin had seemed to her a terrible misfortune. But Razumikhin was in ecstasy. Although he was not yet fully able to express it, he was trembling all over as if he were in a fever, and as if a ton weight had been lifted from his heart. Now he possessed the right to devote the whole of his life to them, to serve them… All kinds of things were possible now! As yet, however, he shyly drove away any further thoughts as to what these might be, and felt afraid of his own imagination. Only Raskolnikov was still sitting where he had been earlier, looking sullen and even absentminded. He, who had raised the greatest demand that Luzhin be sent away, now seemed less interested than any of them in what had just happened. Dunya could not help feeling that he was still very angry with her, and Pulkheria Aleksandrovna kept peering fearfully at him.

‘What did Svidrigailov say to you?’ Dunya said, going over to him.

‘Oh yes, tell us, tell us!’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna exclaimed.

Raskolnikov lifted his head:

‘He's absolutely set on giving you ten thousand roubles, and he also wants to have a meeting with you in my presence.’

‘A meeting? Not for anything in the world!’ exclaimed Pulkheria Aleksandrovna. ‘And how dare he offer her money!’

Then Raskolnikov recounted (in somewhat dry terms) his conversation with Svidrigailov, leaving out the part about Marfa Petrovna's ghosts so as not to clutter his narrative with excessive detail, and because he did not feel like saying any more than was strictly essential.

‘What did you reply?’ Dunya asked.

‘At first I said I wouldn't convey any message to you. Then he announced that he would do everything within his power to obtain an interview with you. He said his passion for you had been a freakish fancy, and that now he feels nothing for you… He doesn't want you to marry Luzhin… In general the things he said were rather confused.’

‘How do you account for his behaviour, Rodya? What sort of an impression did he make on you?’

‘To tell you the truth, I'm really not sure. He offers you ten
thousand, yet he himself says he's not rich. He announces his intention of going off on a journey somewhere, and ten minutes later he's forgotten he even told me about it. Then he suddenly tells me that he wants to get married, and that a bride is already being found for him… But then again, it's a bit strange to suppose that he'd go about things so stupidly if he had evil designs on you… I naturally refused the money, on your behalf, once and for all. In general, the impression he made on me was a very strange one, in fact… I'd even say… he showed signs of insanity. But I may be wrong; it may simply be a case of some kind of showing-off. I think Marfa Petrovna's death is having a certain effect on him…’