Crime and Punishment (67 page)

‘And more noble, more noble – ha-ha-ha!’

‘What do you mean, more noble? I don't understand expressions like that when they're used to describe human activity. “More noble”, “more magnanimous” – all that's just absurd rubbish, old prejudice-ridden words which I reject! All that is
useful
to mankind is noble! That is the only word I understand:
useful
! Snigger all you like, but it is so!’

Pyotr Petrovich had not laughed so much for a long time. By now he had finished counting the money and had stuffed it away. For some reason, however, a portion of it remained on the table. This ‘cesspool question’ had, all its vulgarity notwithstanding, served on a number of occasions now as the pretext for strife and dissension between Pyotr Petrovich and his young friend. What was so stupid about the whole affair was that Andrei Semyonovich really was angry. As for Luzhin, he found it a convenient outlet for his frustration, and at the present moment felt a particular desire to make Lebezyatnikov angry.

‘You're simply aggressive and in a bad temper because of the rebuff you received yesterday,’ Lebezyatnikov burst out at last. Somehow, in spite of all his ‘independence’ and ‘protest’, he did not dare to oppose Pyotr Petrovich and in general treated him with a kind of habitual deference that was a hangover from former years.

‘Look, I know what you can tell me,’ Pyotr Petrovich said, interrupting with haughty irritation. ‘Can you do this for me… or rather, tell me, sir: are you really on sufficiently intimate terms with this young female person that you could ask her, this very moment, to come in here, into this room? I think they've all come back from the cemetery, now… I can hear feet walking about… I need to see her… the young person.’

‘But why do
you
need to see her?’

‘Oh, because I do, sir, because I do. Today or tomorrow I shall be leaving here, and so I should like to tell her… But actually, you may as well stay here during our meeting. It'll probably be better that way. Otherwise God knows what you may get into your head.’

‘I won't get anything into my head… I was merely asking, that's all, and if you have some business to discuss with her,
there's nothing easier than to ask her to come in. I'll go along there now. And you may be assured that I won't interfere.’

True enough, some five minutes later Lebezyatnikov returned with Sonya. She came in looking thoroughly astonished and, as usual, abashed. She was always abashed on such occasions, and was very frightened of new people and new acquaintances, had been as a child, and was even more so now… Pyotr Petrovich greeted her ‘kindly and politely’, though with a slight touch of affable familiarity, suitable, in Pyotr Petrovich's view, to a man as respected and of such elevated social standing as himself, when talking to a female person as youthful and in a certain sense
interesting
as she. He hastened to ‘put her at her ease’ and asked her to sit down at the table opposite him. Sonya sat down and looked around – at Lebezyatnikov, at the money that was lying on the table, and then suddenly back at Pyotr Petrovich again, and after that she did not take her eyes off him, but kept staring at him as though she were riveted to him. Lebezyatnikov made off towards the door. Pyotr Petrovich stood up, motioned to Sonya to remain seated, and stopped Lebezyatnikov in the doorway.

‘Is that Raskolnikov fellow there? Has he come too?’ he asked him in a whisper.

‘Raskolnikov? Yes. What of it? Yes, he's there… He's only just walked in, I saw him… What about it?’

‘Well, in that case I must make a special plea to you to remain here with us, and not leave me alone with this… young lady. It's a trifling matter, but God knows what conclusions people may jump to. I don't want Raskolnikov to tell them about it
in there
… Do you understand what I'm talking about?’

‘Ah, I've got it, I've got it!’ Lebezyatnikov said, suddenly seeing the point. ‘Yes, you have a right… I must say that in my own personal opinion I think you're getting unduly worried, but… even so, you do have a right. Very well, I shall stay. I'll stand by the window here and won't interfere. In my opinion, you have a right…’

Pyotr Petrovich returned to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonya, gave her a close look and then suddenly assumed an air of extreme decorousness, which was even slightly stern, as if to
say: ‘Now don't go getting any ideas, madam.’ Sonya's embarrassment was by now complete.

‘In the first place, Sofya Semyonovna, you must tender my excuses to your much-esteemed mother… Please correct me if I am wrong – Katerina Ivanovna is your stepmother, isn't she?’ Pyotr Petrovich began, very decorously, but kindly enough for all that. It was plain that his intentions were most cordial.

‘That's right sir, yes, sir; she's my stepmother, sir,’ Sonya replied quickly and fearfully.

‘Well then, please tell her I am sorry that because of circumstances beyond my control I find myself unable to attend the
blinis
… the funeral banquet, that is to say, at your lodgings, in spite of your mother's kind invitation.’

‘Yes, sir; I'll tell her, sir.’ And Sonya hurriedly leapt up from her chair.

‘That isn't all, my dear – there is
more
,’ Pyotr Petrovich said, stopping her and smiling at her lack of sophistication and ignorance of social customs. ‘Dear Sofya Semyonovna, you little know me if you suppose that I would trouble a young lady such as yourself in person and ask you to come and see me about such an insignificant matter which concerns myself alone. No, I have another reason for wishing to see you.’

Sonya hurriedly sat down. The grey-and-rainbow-coloured banknotes, which had still not been cleared from the table, caught her attention again fleetingly, but she quickly averted her gaze from them and raised it to Pyotr Petrovich: she suddenly felt it was terribly improper for
her
in particular to look at someone else's money. She fixed her eyes on Pyotr Petrovich's gold lorgnette which he was holding in his left hand and at the large, massive, extremely handsome ring with its yellow stone that adorned the middle finger of that hand – but then suddenly she averted her gaze from it, too, and, no longer knowing where to look, ended up staring straight into Pyotr Petrovich's eyes once more. After a pause that was even more decorous than his previous one, Pyotr Petrovich said:

‘I had occasion yesterday to exchange a few words with Katerina Ivanovna, poor lady. Those few words were enough to apprise me of the fact that the condition she currently finds
herself in is one of – unnaturalness, if I may thus express it…’

‘Yes, sir… one of unnaturalness, sir,’ Sonya hurried to agree.

‘Or, to put it more simply and straightforwardly – one of illness.’

‘Yes, sir, more simply and straightforw… yes, sir, she's ill.’

‘Quite so. And so it is that from a sense of humanity, and, and, and, how shall I put it, compassion, I should like to do something to help her, in view of the inevitably unfortunate lot that awaits her. It would appear that the whole of this most destitute family now depends on you alone.’

‘There's something I want to ask,’ Sonya said, standing up all of a sudden. ‘What did you say to her yesterday about the chance of her receiving a pension? Because yesterday she told me that you'd undertaken to get her one. Is that true, sir?’

‘Certainly not, my dear. It's actually rather a silly thing for her to have said. All I did was hint at the possibility of her receiving some temporary assistance as the widow of a government employee deceased while employed in the service – as long as she has someone to pull the right strings for her – but it seems that your deceased parent hadn't actually been doing any work at all of late. In short, though there might be some hope, it could only be of a most ephemeral nature, as in essence there is no entitlement to assistance in this case, and even possibly the reverse… Yet there she was, already thinking about a pension, ha-ha-ha! The lady has some spirit!’

‘Yes, sir, she has been thinking about a pension… Because she's kind-hearted and easily taken in, and her kind-heartedness makes her believe all the things people tell her, and… and… and… that's just the way she thinks… Yes, sir… You must forgive her, sir,’ Sonya said, and again got up in order to go.

‘But you haven't let me finish what I was about to say, my dear.’

‘No, sir, I haven't,’ Sonya muttered.

‘Then please sit down.’

Sonya became terribly confused and sat down again for a third time.

‘In view of the position she is in, with unfortunate minors to look after, I should like – as I have already said – to do whatever
I can, within the limit of my powers, in order to help her; but I must stress that it can only be within the limit of my powers, my dear – no more than that. It might, for example, be possible to organize a subscription fund for her, or, as it were, a lottery… or something of that nature – the sort of thing that is usually done by relatives or at any rate by those who wish to help. It was this that I was anxious to tell you. That sort of thing would be perfectly possible, my dear.’

‘Yes, sir, very well, sir… God will thank you for this, sir…’ Sonya babbled, staring fixedly at Pyotr Petrovich.

‘Possible, but… We shall see about it later… Though we might make a start on it this very day. Let us meet this evening, my dear, talk it over and lay the groundwork, as it were. Come and see me at about seven. Andrei Semyonovich, I hope, will also join us… But… there is one thing I must make thoroughly clear in advance. It was in this connection that I troubled you, Sofya Semyonovna, in asking you to come here in person. You see, my dear, it is my opinion that it would be foolish and indeed dangerous to put money straight into Katerina Ivanovna's hands; as proof of this I would cite the funeral banquet she is holding today. Though she does not know where her next crust of bread is coming from, and… and she and her children do not even have proper shoes, or anything, she has today purchased Jamaican rum and even, it would appear, Madeira, and, and, and
coffee
! I saw it as I was passing. Tomorrow the whole burden will descend upon your shoulders again, all the way to the last crust of bread; that is absurd, my dear. And so it is my personal view that the subscription fund must be organized in such a manner that the unfortunate widow should, as it were, know nothing about the money, and that you should, perhaps, be the only person who does. Do you think that makes sense?’

‘I don't know, sir. She's only doing this today, sir… it's once in her lifetime… she wanted so terribly to remember her husband, do something in his honour, as a kind of memorial… and she's very intelligent, sir. But then again, it's as you wish, sir, and I will be very, very, very grateful to you, sir… they all will be… and God will be, too, and the orphans, sir…’

Sonya left her sentence unfinished and burst into tears.

‘Yes, my dear. Well, think about it; and now I should be glad if you would accept, in the interests of your mother, an initial sum from me personally – it is the best that I can do. I must earnestly request that my name not be mentioned in connection with any of this. Here you are, my dear – saddled as I am myself with worries, this is all that I can…’

And Pyotr Petrovich carefully unfolded a ten-rouble banknote and handed it to Sonya. Sonya took it, blushed scarlet, leapt to her feet, muttered something and quickly said goodbye. Pyotr Petrovich solemnly accompanied her to the door. At last she darted out of the room in a state of utter agitation and exhaustion, and returned to Katerina Ivanovna totally confused.

Throughout the whole of this scene Andrei Semyonovich had either been standing by the window or wandering about the room, anxious not to interrupt the conversation; but when Sonya had left, he suddenly went up to Pyotr Petrovich and held out his hand to him in solemn greeting.

‘I heard and
saw
it all,’ he said, laying particular emphasis on the latter word. ‘That was nobly – I mean to say, humanely – done. You were trying to avoid any scenes of gratitude, I could see that! And though I must confess to you that my principles forbid me to condone private charity, as not only does it fail radically to root out evil, but actually fuels it even more, even so I cannot help admitting that I viewed what you did with satisfaction – yes, yes, it appeals to me.’

‘Oh, don't talk such nonsense!’ Pyotr Petrovich muttered in some agitation, giving Lebezyatnikov a strange look.

‘It isn't nonsense! A man who has been insulted and brought to the point of vexation as you were by yesterday's events, yet is still able to think of the misfortune of others – such a man, sir… even though by his actions he is committing an error against society – is none the less… worthy of respect! I must say I didn't expect it of you, Pyotr Petrovich, particularly in view of your way of seeing the world – oh, how your way of seeing the world stands in your path! How upset you are, for instance, by this rebuff you received yesterday,’ exclaimed the soft-hearted Andrei Semyonovich, again experiencing a wave of intense sympathy for Pyotr Petrovich. ‘Yet what use, what use would that
marriage, that
legal
marriage have been to you, my good, my kind Pyotr Petrovich? What use would that marital
legality
have been to you? Well, chastise me if you wish, but I am glad, glad that it has not come about, and that you are free, that you are not yet lost to mankind, glad… There: I have told you my opinion!’

‘Because sir, I do not wish to wear horns and raise other men's children in one of those citizens’ marriages of yours – that is the reason why legal marriage is necessary to me,’ Luzhin said, for want of a better reply. There was evidently something on his mind, something that was occupying all his attention.

‘Children? You're on to the subject of children, are you?’ Andrei Semyonovich said with a start, like a warhorse hearing the martial trumpet. ‘The question of children is a social one, and of the first importance, I agree: but it is a question that will be resolved differently in future. There are some who reject children altogether, as they do all that suggests the family. We shall speak of children later, but for the present, let us get to grips with the horns! I will confess to you that I have a special weakness for this point. “Horns” – that loathsome, hussar-barrack-room, “Pushkinian” expression
⁶
– will be quite unthinkable in the dictionary of the future. For what are horns? Oh, what a delusion! What horns? Why are they called horns? Such nonsense! They certainly won't exist in any citizens’ marriage! Horns are simply the natural consequence of legal marriage, a corrective to it, as it were, a protest against it, so that in that sense at least they are in no way degrading… And if I should ever – supposing the absurd to be possible – enter into a legal marriage, I would be positively glad of your damnable horns; then to my wife I would say: “My dear, until now I have merely loved you, but now I respect you, because you have succeeded in making a protest!”
⁷
You think that's funny, do you? That's because you're not strong enough to tear yourself away from your prejudices! The devil take it, of course I understand how unpleasant it can be when people play false in legal marriage: but I mean, that is simply the ignoble consequence of an ignoble institution, in which both partners are degraded. But when, on the other hand, horns are worn openly, as they are in
a citizens’ marriage, then they no longer exist, they are unthinkable and actually lose the appellation of horns altogether. On the contrary, your wife will merely be demonstrating to you how much she respects you, considering you incapable of opposing her happiness and so educated that you won't revenge yourself on her for taking a new husband. The devil take it, I sometimes imagine that if I were to be given away in marriage… Confound it! I mean, if I were to enter upon marriage (whether a legal or a citizens’ one, it would make no difference), I think I myself would get my wife a lover if she took too long about finding one. “My dear,” I'd say to her, “I love you, but in addition to that I want you to respect me – there!” Do you see, do you see what I'm saying?’