Part 2

Chapter 3

23 min

He was not completely unconscious, however, all the time he was ill; he was in a feverish state, sometimes delirious, sometimes half conscious. He remembered a great deal afterwards. Sometimes it seemed as though there were a number of people round him; they wanted to take him away somewhere, there was a great deal of squabbling and discussing about him. Then he would be alone in the room; they had all gone away afraid of him, and only now and then opened the door a crack to look at him; they threatened him, plotted something together, laughed, and mocked at him. He remembered Nastasya often at his bedside; he distinguished another person, too, whom he seemed to know very well, though he could not remember who he was, and this fretted him, even made him cry. Sometimes he fancied he had been lying there a month; at other times it all seemed part of the same day. But of that—of that he had no recollection, and yet every minute he felt that he had forgotten something he ought to remember. He worried and tormented himself trying to remember, moaned, flew into a rage, or sank into awful, intolerable terror. Then he struggled to get up, would have run away, but someone always prevented him by force, and he sank back into impotence and forgetfulness. At last he returned to complete consciousness.

He was not completely unconscious during his illness. He was feverish, sometimes delirious and sometimes half conscious. Later, he remembered a great deal. Sometimes he seemed to be surrounded by people who wanted to take him away somewhere. They argued and talked a great deal about him. Then he would be alone in the room. They had all gone away because they were afraid of him. Only now and then did they open the door a crack to look at him. They threatened him, plotted together, laughed, and mocked him. He remembered Nastasya often sitting by his bed. He could make out another person, too, someone he seemed to know very well. But he could not remember who the man was. This troubled him and even made him cry. Sometimes he imagined he had been lying there for a month. At other times, it all seemed to be part of the same day. But he remembered nothing of that, of that. Yet every minute he felt he had forgotten something he ought to remember. He worried and tormented himself trying to recall it. He moaned, flew into a rage, or sank into awful, unbearable terror. Then he struggled to get up and tried to run away. But someone always held him back by force, and he sank back into helplessness and forgetfulness. At last he became fully conscious again.

It happened at ten o’clock in the morning. On fine days the sun shone into the room at that hour, throwing a streak of light on the right wall and the corner near the door. Nastasya was standing beside him with another person, a complete stranger, who was looking at him very inquisitively. He was a young man with a beard, wearing a full, short-waisted coat, and looked like a messenger. The landlady was peeping in at the half-opened door. Raskolnikov sat up.

It happened at ten in the morning. On sunny days, sunlight entered the room at that hour. It cast a streak of light on the right wall and the corner near the door. Nastasya stood beside him with a complete stranger, who was looking at him with great curiosity. The stranger was a young man with a beard, wearing a loose, short-waisted coat. He looked like a messenger. The landlady was peeking through the half-open door. Raskolnikov sat up.

“Who is this, Nastasya?” he asked, pointing to the young man.

“I say, he’s himself again!” she said.

“Look, he’s himself again!” she said.

“He is himself,” echoed the man.

“He is himself,” the man repeated.

Concluding that he had returned to his senses, the landlady closed the door and disappeared. She was always shy and dreaded conversations or discussions. She was a woman of forty, not at all bad-looking, fat and buxom, with black eyes and eyebrows, good-natured from fatness and laziness, and absurdly bashful.

Seeing that he had come to his senses, the landlady closed the door and disappeared. She was always shy and dreaded conversations or discussions. She was forty and not at all bad-looking. She was fat and full-figured, with black eyes and eyebrows. Her fatness and laziness made her good-natured, and she was absurdly bashful.

“Who... are you?” he went on, addressing the man. But at that moment the door was flung open, and, stooping a little, as he was so tall, Razumihin came in.

“Who... are you?” he continued, addressing the man. But just then, the door flew open, and Razumihin came in. He ducked slightly because he was so tall.

“What a cabin it is!” he cried. “I am always knocking my head. You call this a lodging! So you are conscious, brother? I’ve just heard the news from Pashenka.”

“What a tiny room!” he cried. “I keep hitting my head. You call this a place to live! So you’re awake, brother? I just heard the news from Pashenka.”

“He has just come to,” said Nastasya.

“He just regained consciousness,” said Nastasya.

“Just come to,” echoed the man again, with a smile.

“Just come to,” the man repeated with a smile.

“And who are you?” Razumihin asked, suddenly addressing him. “My name is Vrazumihin, at your service; not Razumihin, as I am always called, but Vrazumihin, a student and gentleman; and he is my friend. And who are you?”

“And who are you?” Razumihin asked, suddenly turning to him. “My name is Vrazumihin, at your service. Not Razumihin, as everyone calls me, but Vrazumihin. I am a student and a gentleman, and he is my friend. And who are you?”

“I am the messenger from our office, from the merchant Shelopaev, and I’ve come on business.”

“I’m a messenger from our office, the merchant Shelopaev’s office. I’m here on business.”

“Please sit down.” Razumihin seated himself on the other side of the table. “It’s a good thing you’ve come to, brother,” he went on to Raskolnikov. “For the last four days you have scarcely eaten or drunk anything. We had to give you tea in spoonfuls. I brought Zossimov to see you twice. You remember Zossimov? He examined you carefully and said at once it was nothing serious—something seemed to have gone to your head. Some nervous nonsense, the result of bad feeding, he says you have not had enough beer and radish, but it’s nothing much, it will pass and you will be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He is making quite a name. Come, I won’t keep you,” he said, addressing the man again. “Will you explain what you want? You must know, Rodya, this is the second time they have sent from the office; but it was another man last time, and I talked to him. Who was it came before?”

“Please sit down.” Razumihin sat on the other side of the table. “It’s good that you’ve come around, brother,” he continued, speaking to Raskolnikov. “For the last four days, you’ve hardly eaten or drunk anything. We had to give you tea by the spoonful. I brought Zossimov to see you twice. Do you remember Zossimov? He examined you carefully and said right away that it was nothing serious. Something seemed to have affected your head. Some nervous trouble caused by poor eating. He says you haven’t had enough beer and radish. But it’s nothing much. It will pass, and you’ll be all right. Zossimov is a first-rate fellow! He’s really making a name for himself. Come, I won’t keep you,” he said, turning back to the man. “Will you explain what you want? You should know, Rodya, this is the second time they’ve sent someone from the office. But it was a different man last time, and I spoke to him. Who came before?”

“That was the day before yesterday, I venture to say, if you please, sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch; he is in our office, too.”

“That was the day before yesterday, I believe, sir. That was Alexey Semyonovitch. He works in our office too.”

“He was more intelligent than you, don’t you think so?”

“He was smarter than you, don’t you think?”

“Yes, indeed, sir, he is of more weight than I am.”

“Yes, sir, he carries more weight than I do.”

“Quite so; go on.”

“That’s right. Go on.”

“At your mamma’s request, through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin, of whom I presume you have heard more than once, a remittance is sent to you from our office,” the man began, addressing Raskolnikov. “If you are in an intelligible condition, I’ve thirty-five roubles to remit to you, as Semyon Semyonovitch has received from Afanasy Ivanovitch at your mamma’s request instructions to that effect, as on previous occasions. Do you know him, sir?”

“At your mother’s request, our office has sent you some money through Afanasy Ivanovitch Vahrushin,” the man began, addressing Raskolnikov. “I assume you’ve heard of him more than once. If you’re able to understand me, I have thirty-five roubles to give you. As on previous occasions, Afanasy Ivanovitch has instructed Semyon Semyonovitch to send it at your mother’s request. Do you know him, sir?”

“Yes, I remember... Vahrushin,” Raskolnikov said dreamily.

“You hear, he knows Vahrushin,” cried Razumihin. “He is in ‘an intelligible condition’! And I see you are an intelligent man too. Well, it’s always pleasant to hear words of wisdom.”

“Did you hear? He knows Vahrushin,” cried Razumihin. “He is in ‘an intelligible condition’! And I can see that you’re an intelligent man too. Well, it’s always nice to hear wise words.”

“That’s the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. And at the request of your mamma, who has sent you a remittance once before in the same manner through him, he did not refuse this time also, and sent instructions to Semyon Semyonovitch some days since to hand you thirty-five roubles in the hope of better to come.”

“That’s the gentleman, Vahrushin, Afanasy Ivanovitch. Your mamma has sent you money through him once before. At her request, he agreed to help again. A few days ago, he instructed Semyon Semyonovitch to give you thirty-five roubles, with the hope of more to come.”

“That ‘hoping for better to come’ is the best thing you’ve said, though ‘your mamma’ is not bad either. Come then, what do you say? Is he fully conscious, eh?”

“‘Hoping for better to come’ is the best thing you’ve said, though ‘your mamma’ isn’t bad either. Well, what do you say? Is he fully conscious, eh?”

“That’s all right. If only he can sign this little paper.”

“He can scrawl his name. Have you got the book?”

“He can scrawl his name. Do you have the book?”

“Yes, here’s the book.”

“Give it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. I’ll hold you. Take the pen and scribble ‘Raskolnikov’ for him. For just now, brother, money is sweeter to us than treacle.”

“Give it to me. Here, Rodya, sit up. I’ll hold you. Take the pen and scribble ‘Raskolnikov’ for him. Right now, brother, money is sweeter to us than syrup.”

“I don’t want it,” said Raskolnikov, pushing away the pen.

“Not want it?”

“Don't want it?”

“I won’t sign it.”

“How the devil can you do without signing it?”

“How the hell can you do without signing it?”

“I don’t want... the money.”

“Don’t want the money! Come, brother, that’s nonsense, I bear witness. Don’t trouble, please, it’s only that he is on his travels again. But that’s pretty common with him at all times though.... You are a man of judgment and we will take him in hand, that is, more simply, take his hand and he will sign it. Here.”

“You don’t want the money! Come on, brother, that’s nonsense, I can attest to that. Please don’t worry, his mind is wandering again. But his mind often wanders anyway.... You’re a sensible man, and we’ll take him in hand. Or rather, we’ll take his hand, and he’ll sign it. Here.”

“But I can come another time.”

“No, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a man of judgment.... Now, Rodya, don’t keep your visitor, you see he is waiting,” and he made ready to hold Raskolnikov’s hand in earnest.

“No, no. Why should we trouble you? You are a sensible man.... Now, Rodya, don’t keep your visitor. You can see he’s waiting,” and he prepared to grasp Raskolnikov’s hand firmly.

“Stop, I’ll do it alone,” said the latter, taking the pen and signing his name.

“Stop, I’ll do it myself,” said the other man, taking the pen and signing his name.

The messenger took out the money and went away.

The messenger took out the money and left.

“Bravo! And now, brother, are you hungry?”

“Great! Now, brother, are you hungry?”

“Yes,” answered Raskolnikov.

“Yes,” Raskolnikov replied.

“Is there any soup?”

“Some of yesterday’s,” answered Nastasya, who was still standing there.

“Some from yesterday,” answered Nastasya, who was still standing there.

“With potatoes and rice in it?”

“Yes.”

“I know it by heart. Bring soup and give us some tea.”

“I know it by heart. Bring us some soup and tea.”

“Very well.”

“All right.”

Raskolnikov looked at all this with profound astonishment and a dull, unreasoning terror. He made up his mind to keep quiet and see what would happen. “I believe I am not wandering. I believe it’s reality,” he thought.

Raskolnikov watched all this with deep astonishment and a dull, unreasoning terror. He decided to stay quiet and see what happened. “I believe my mind isn’t wandering. I believe this is real,” he thought.

In a couple of minutes Nastasya returned with the soup, and announced that the tea would be ready directly. With the soup she brought two spoons, two plates, salt, pepper, mustard for the beef, and so on. The table was set as it had not been for a long time. The cloth was clean.

A couple of minutes later, Nastasya returned with the soup and said the tea would be ready soon. She also brought two spoons, two plates, salt, pepper, mustard for the beef, and so on. The table had not been set like this in a long time. The tablecloth was clean.

“It would not be amiss, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna were to send us up a couple of bottles of beer. We could empty them.”

“It would be nice, Nastasya, if Praskovya Pavlovna sent us up a couple of bottles of beer. We could drink them.”

“Well, you are a cool hand,” muttered Nastasya, and she departed to carry out his orders.

“Well, you’ve got some nerve,” muttered Nastasya, and she went to carry out his orders.

Raskolnikov still gazed wildly with strained attention. Meanwhile Razumihin sat down on the sofa beside him, as clumsily as a bear put his left arm round Raskolnikov’s head, although he was able to sit up, and with his right hand gave him a spoonful of soup, blowing on it that it might not burn him. But the soup was only just warm. Raskolnikov swallowed one spoonful greedily, then a second, then a third. But after giving him a few more spoonfuls of soup, Razumihin suddenly stopped, and said that he must ask Zossimov whether he ought to have more.

Raskolnikov still stared wildly, his attention strained. Meanwhile, Razumihin sat down beside him on the sofa. Clumsy as a bear, he put his left arm around Raskolnikov’s head, even though Raskolnikov could sit up. With his right hand, Razumihin fed him a spoonful of soup. He blew on it so it wouldn’t burn him, but the soup was only lukewarm. Raskolnikov greedily swallowed one spoonful, then a second, then a third. But after giving him a few more spoonfuls, Razumihin suddenly stopped. He said he had to ask Zossimov whether Raskolnikov should have more.

Nastasya came in with two bottles of beer.

“And will you have tea?”

“And would you like some tea?”

“Yes.”

“Cut along, Nastasya, and bring some tea, for tea we may venture on without the faculty. But here is the beer!” He moved back to his chair, pulled the soup and meat in front of him, and began eating as though he had not touched food for three days.

“Go on, Nastasya, and bring some tea. We can risk tea without the doctors. But here’s the beer!” He went back to his chair and pulled the soup and meat in front of him. He began eating as if he hadn’t eaten for three days.

“I must tell you, Rodya, I dine like this here every day now,” he mumbled with his mouth full of beef, “and it’s all Pashenka, your dear little landlady, who sees to that; she loves to do anything for me. I don’t ask for it, but, of course, I don’t object. And here’s Nastasya with the tea. She is a quick girl. Nastasya, my dear, won’t you have some beer?”

“I have to tell you, Rodya, I eat like this here every day now,” he mumbled, his mouth full of beef. “It’s all thanks to Pashenka, your dear little landlady. She loves doing anything for me. I don’t ask her to, but of course I don’t object. And here’s Nastasya with the tea. She’s a quick girl. Nastasya, my dear, would you like some beer?”

“Get along with your nonsense!”

“Stop that nonsense!”

“A cup of tea, then?”

“A cup of tea, maybe.”

“Pour it out. Stay, I’ll pour it out myself. Sit down.”

“Pour it out. Wait, I’ll pour it out myself. Sit down.”

He poured out two cups, left his dinner, and sat on the sofa again. As before, he put his left arm round the sick man’s head, raised him up and gave him tea in spoonfuls, again blowing each spoonful steadily and earnestly, as though this process was the principal and most effective means towards his friend’s recovery. Raskolnikov said nothing and made no resistance, though he felt quite strong enough to sit up on the sofa without support and could not merely have held a cup or a spoon, but even perhaps could have walked about. But from some queer, almost animal, cunning he conceived the idea of hiding his strength and lying low for a time, pretending if necessary not to be yet in full possession of his faculties, and meanwhile listening to find out what was going on. Yet he could not overcome his sense of repugnance. After sipping a dozen spoonfuls of tea, he suddenly released his head, pushed the spoon away capriciously, and sank back on the pillow. There were actually real pillows under his head now, down pillows in clean cases, he observed that, too, and took note of it.

He poured two cups of tea, left his dinner, and sat down on the sofa again. As before, he put his left arm around the sick man’s head, lifted him up, and fed him tea by the spoonful. Again he blew steadily and earnestly on each spoonful, as if this were the main and most effective way to help his friend recover. Raskolnikov said nothing and did not resist. Yet he felt quite strong enough to sit up on the sofa without support. He could have held a cup or spoon, and perhaps even walked around. But with a strange, almost animal cunning, he decided to hide his strength and lie low for a while. If necessary, he would pretend he had not yet regained his senses. Meanwhile, he would listen to find out what was going on. Still, he could not overcome his disgust. After sipping a dozen spoonfuls of tea, he suddenly pulled his head free, pushed the spoon away on a whim, and sank back onto the pillow. He noticed that there were real pillows under his head now, down pillows in clean cases. He took note of that, too.

“Pashenka must give us some raspberry jam to-day to make him some raspberry tea,” said Razumihin, going back to his chair and attacking his soup and beer again.

“Pashenka must give us some raspberry jam today so we can make him some raspberry tea,” said Razumihin. He went back to his chair and dug into his soup and beer again.

“And where is she to get raspberries for you?” asked Nastasya, balancing a saucer on her five outspread fingers and sipping tea through a lump of sugar.

“And where is she supposed to get raspberries for you?” Nastasya asked. She balanced a saucer on her five outstretched fingers and sipped tea through a lump of sugar.

“She’ll get it at the shop, my dear. You see, Rodya, all sorts of things have been happening while you have been laid up. When you decamped in that rascally way without leaving your address, I felt so angry that I resolved to find you out and punish you. I set to work that very day. How I ran about making inquiries for you! This lodging of yours I had forgotten, though I never remembered it, indeed, because I did not know it; and as for your old lodgings, I could only remember it was at the Five Corners, Harlamov’s house. I kept trying to find that Harlamov’s house, and afterwards it turned out that it was not Harlamov’s, but Buch’s. How one muddles up sounds sometimes! So I lost my temper, and I went on the chance to the address bureau next day, and only fancy, in two minutes they looked you up! Your name is down there.”

“She’ll get it at the shop, my dear. You see, Rodya, all sorts of things have happened while you’ve been laid up. When you ran off like that without leaving your address, I was furious. It was a rotten thing to do, and I decided to find you and punish you. I started looking that very day. I ran all over the place asking about you! I’d forgotten this lodging of yours. Actually, I’d never remembered it, because I didn’t know about it. As for your old lodgings, I could only remember that they were at the Five Corners, in Harlamov’s house. I kept trying to find Harlamov’s house. Then it turned out the house belonged to Buch, not Harlamov. How we mix up sounds sometimes! So I lost my temper. The next day, I tried the address bureau, and imagine, they found you in two minutes! Your name is listed there.”

“My name!”

“I should think so; and yet a General Kobelev they could not find while I was there. Well, it’s a long story. But as soon as I did land on this place, I soon got to know all your affairs—all, all, brother, I know everything; Nastasya here will tell you. I made the acquaintance of Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, and the house-porter and Mr. Zametov, Alexandr Grigorievitch, the head clerk in the police office, and, last, but not least, of Pashenka; Nastasya here knows....”

“I should think so. And yet they couldn’t find a General Kobelev while I was there. Well, it’s a long story. But as soon as I arrived here, I found out all about your affairs. All of them, brother, I know everything. Nastasya here will tell you. I met Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, the building porter, and Mr. Zametov, Alexandr Grigorievitch, the head clerk at the police office. And last but not least, I met Pashenka. Nastasya here knows....”

“He’s got round her,” Nastasya murmured, smiling slyly.

“He’s won her over,” Nastasya murmured, smiling slyly.

“Why don’t you put the sugar in your tea, Nastasya Nikiforovna?”

“You are a oner!” Nastasya cried suddenly, going off into a giggle. “I am not Nikiforovna, but Petrovna,” she added suddenly, recovering from her mirth.

“You’re quite a character!” Nastasya suddenly cried, bursting into giggles. Once she stopped laughing, she suddenly added, “I’m not Nikiforovna, but Petrovna.”

“I’ll make a note of it. Well, brother, to make a long story short, I was going in for a regular explosion here to uproot all malignant influences in the locality, but Pashenka won the day. I had not expected, brother, to find her so... prepossessing. Eh, what do you think?”

“I’ll make a note of it. Well, brother, to make a long story short, I was planning a real blowup here. I wanted to root out all the harmful influences in the area, but Pashenka won out. I didn’t expect to find her so... attractive, brother. Eh, what do you think?”

Raskolnikov did not speak, but he still kept his eyes fixed upon him, full of alarm.

Raskolnikov said nothing, but he kept staring at him, his eyes full of alarm.

“And all that could be wished, indeed, in every respect,” Razumihin went on, not at all embarrassed by his silence.

“And everything one could wish for, really, in every respect,” Razumihin went on, not at all embarrassed by his silence.

“Ah, the sly dog!” Nastasya shrieked again. This conversation afforded her unspeakable delight.

“Oh, the sly dog!” Nastasya shrieked again. The conversation delighted her beyond words.

“It’s a pity, brother, that you did not set to work in the right way at first. You ought to have approached her differently. She is, so to speak, a most unaccountable character. But we will talk about her character later.... How could you let things come to such a pass that she gave up sending you your dinner? And that I O U? You must have been mad to sign an I O U. And that promise of marriage when her daughter, Natalya Yegorovna, was alive?... I know all about it! But I see that’s a delicate matter and I am an ass; forgive me. But, talking of foolishness, do you know Praskovya Pavlovna is not nearly so foolish as you would think at first sight?”

“It’s a shame, brother, that you didn’t handle things the right way from the start. You should have approached her differently. She’s a very hard person to understand, so to speak. But we’ll talk about her character later.... How did you let things get so bad that she stopped sending you dinner? And what about that IOU? You must have been mad to sign it. And that promise to marry her daughter, Natalya Yegorovna, when she was still alive?... I know all about it! But I see it’s a delicate matter, and I’m an idiot. Forgive me. But speaking of foolishness, did you know Praskovya Pavlovna isn’t nearly as foolish as she first appears?”

“No,” mumbled Raskolnikov, looking away, but feeling that it was better to keep up the conversation.

“No,” Raskolnikov mumbled, looking away, though he felt it was better to keep the conversation going.

“She isn’t, is she?” cried Razumihin, delighted to get an answer out of him. “But she is not very clever either, eh? She is essentially, essentially an unaccountable character! I am sometimes quite at a loss, I assure you.... She must be forty; she says she is thirty-six, and of course she has every right to say so. But I swear I judge her intellectually, simply from the metaphysical point of view; there is a sort of symbolism sprung up between us, a sort of algebra or what not! I don’t understand it! Well, that’s all nonsense. Only, seeing that you are not a student now and have lost your lessons and your clothes, and that through the young lady’s death she has no need to treat you as a relation, she suddenly took fright; and as you hid in your den and dropped all your old relations with her, she planned to get rid of you. And she’s been cherishing that design a long time, but was sorry to lose the I O U, for you assured her yourself that your mother would pay.”

“She isn’t, is she?” cried Razumihin, delighted to get an answer out of him. “But she’s not very clever either, is she? She’s basically, basically impossible to figure out! Sometimes I’m completely baffled, I assure you.... She must be forty. She says she’s thirty-six, and of course she has every right to say so. But I swear I’m judging her intellect, purely from a metaphysical point of view. There’s a kind of symbolism that’s sprung up between us, a kind of algebra or something! I don’t understand it! Well, that’s all nonsense. But you’re not a student anymore, and you’ve lost your lessons and your clothes. And since the young lady died, she has no reason to treat you like a relative. So she suddenly got scared. You hid in your den and broke off your old relationship with her, so she planned to get rid of you. She’s been planning it for a long time, but she didn’t want to lose the IOU. After all, you assured her yourself that your mother would pay.”

“It was base of me to say that.... My mother herself is almost a beggar... and I told a lie to keep my lodging... and be fed,” Raskolnikov said loudly and distinctly.

“It was shameful of me to say that.... My own mother is almost a beggar... and I lied to keep my lodging... and get food,” Raskolnikov said loudly and clearly.

“Yes, you did very sensibly. But the worst of it is that at that point Mr. Tchebarov turns up, a business man. Pashenka would never have thought of doing anything on her own account, she is too retiring; but the business man is by no means retiring, and first thing he puts the question, ‘Is there any hope of realising the I O U?’ Answer: there is, because he has a mother who would save her Rodya with her hundred and twenty-five roubles pension, if she has to starve herself; and a sister, too, who would go into bondage for his sake. That’s what he was building upon.... Why do you start? I know all the ins and outs of your affairs now, my dear boy—it’s not for nothing that you were so open with Pashenka when you were her prospective son-in-law, and I say all this as a friend.... But I tell you what it is; an honest and sensitive man is open; and a business man ‘listens and goes on eating’ you up. Well, then she gave the I O U by way of payment to this Tchebarov, and without hesitation he made a formal demand for payment. When I heard of all this I wanted to blow him up, too, to clear my conscience, but by that time harmony reigned between me and Pashenka, and I insisted on stopping the whole affair, engaging that you would pay. I went security for you, brother. Do you understand? We called Tchebarov, flung him ten roubles and got the I O U back from him, and here I have the honour of presenting it to you. She trusts your word now. Here, take it, you see I have torn it.”

“Yes, you did the sensible thing. But the worst part is that Mr. Tchebarov, a businessman, turns up at that point. Pashenka would never have thought of doing anything on her own. She’s too shy. But the businessman is anything but shy. The first thing he asks is, ‘Is there any hope of collecting on the IOU?’ The answer is yes. He has a mother who would save her Rodya with her pension of 125 roubles, even if she had to starve herself. He has a sister, too, who would go into bondage for his sake. That’s what Tchebarov was counting on.... Why do you start? I know all the details of your affairs now, my dear boy. You were open with Pashenka when you were expecting to marry her, and it wasn’t for nothing. I say all this as a friend.... But here’s the thing: an honest, sensitive man is open. And a businessman ‘listens and goes on eating’ you up. “Well, Pashenka gave the IOU to Tchebarov as payment, and he promptly made a formal demand for payment. When I heard about it, I wanted to give him a piece of my mind, too, to clear my conscience. But by then Pashenka and I were getting along, and I insisted on stopping the whole affair. I promised that you would pay. I stood guarantor for you, brother. Do you understand? We called in Tchebarov, threw him ten roubles, and got the IOU back. And now I have the honour of presenting it to you. She trusts your word now. Here, take it. You see I’ve torn it.”

Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him and turned to the wall without uttering a word. Even Razumihin felt a twinge.

Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him and turned to the wall without saying a word. Even Razumihin felt a twinge.

“I see, brother,” he said a moment later, “that I have been playing the fool again. I thought I should amuse you with my chatter, and I believe I have only made you cross.”

“I see, brother,” he said a moment later, “that I’ve made a fool of myself again. I thought my chatter would entertain you, but I believe I’ve only annoyed you.”

“Was it you I did not recognise when I was delirious?” Raskolnikov asked, after a moment’s pause without turning his head.

“Were you the one I didn’t recognize when I was delirious?” Raskolnikov asked after a pause, without turning his head.

“Yes, and you flew into a rage about it, especially when I brought Zametov one day.”

“Yes, and you got furious about it, especially when I brought Zametov one day.”

“Zametov? The head clerk? What for?” Raskolnikov turned round quickly and fixed his eyes on Razumihin.

“Zametov? The head clerk? What for?” Raskolnikov turned quickly and stared at Razumihin.

“What’s the matter with you?... What are you upset about? He wanted to make your acquaintance because I talked to him a lot about you.... How could I have found out so much except from him? He is a capital fellow, brother, first-rate... in his own way, of course. Now we are friends—see each other almost every day. I have moved into this part, you know. I have only just moved. I’ve been with him to Luise Ivanovna once or twice.... Do you remember Luise, Luise Ivanovna?’

“What’s wrong with you?... What are you upset about? He wanted to meet you because I’d told him so much about you.... How else could I have found out so much, except from him? He’s a great fellow, brother, first-rate... in his own way, of course. Now we’re friends. We see each other almost every day. I’ve moved to this neighborhood, you know. I only just moved here. I’ve been to Luise Ivanovna’s with him once or twice.... Do you remember Luise, Luise Ivanovna?”

“Did I say anything in delirium?”

“Did I say anything while I was delirious?”

“I should think so! You were beside yourself.”

“Of course! You were out of your mind.”

“What did I rave about?”

“What was I babbling about?”

“What next? What did you rave about? What people do rave about.... Well, brother, now I must not lose time. To work.” He got up from the table and took up his cap.

“What next? What did you ramble about? The things people ramble about.... Well, brother, I mustn’t waste time now. Time to work.” He got up from the table and picked up his cap.

“What did I rave about?”

“What did I say while I was delirious?”

“How he keeps on! Are you afraid of having let out some secret? Don’t worry yourself; you said nothing about a countess. But you said a lot about a bulldog, and about ear-rings and chains, and about Krestovsky Island, and some porter, and Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, the assistant superintendent. And another thing that was of special interest to you was your own sock. You whined, ‘Give me my sock.’ Zametov hunted all about your room for your socks, and with his own scented, ring-bedecked fingers he gave you the rag. And only then were you comforted, and for the next twenty-four hours you held the wretched thing in your hand; we could not get it from you. It is most likely somewhere under your quilt at this moment. And then you asked so piteously for fringe for your trousers. We tried to find out what sort of fringe, but we could not make it out. Now to business! Here are thirty-five roubles; I take ten of them, and shall give you an account of them in an hour or two. I will let Zossimov know at the same time, though he ought to have been here long ago, for it is nearly twelve. And you, Nastasya, look in pretty often while I am away, to see whether he wants a drink or anything else. And I will tell Pashenka what is wanted myself. Good-bye!”

“How he goes on! Are you afraid you let out some secret? Don’t worry, you said nothing about a countess. But you talked a lot about a bulldog, earrings and chains, Krestovsky Island, and some porter. You also talked about Nikodim Fomitch and Ilya Petrovitch, the assistant superintendent. “Another thing you were especially interested in was your own sock. You whined, ‘Give me my sock.’ Zametov searched your whole room for your socks. With his own scented, ring-covered fingers, he gave you the rag. Only then were you comforted. For the next twenty-four hours, you held the wretched thing in your hand. We couldn’t get it away from you. It’s probably somewhere under your quilt right now. Then you asked so pitifully for fringe for your trousers. We tried to find out what kind of fringe you meant, but we couldn’t make it out. “Now to business! Here are thirty-five roubles. I’ll take ten of them and tell you how I spent them in an hour or two. I’ll let Zossimov know at the same time. He should have been here long ago, though, because it’s nearly twelve. And you, Nastasya, check on him often while I’m away. See if he wants a drink or anything else. I’ll tell Pashenka myself what’s needed. Goodbye!”

“He calls her Pashenka! Ah, he’s a deep one!” said Nastasya as he went out; then she opened the door and stood listening, but could not resist running downstairs after him. She was very eager to hear what he would say to the landlady. She was evidently quite fascinated by Razumihin.

“He calls her Pashenka! Ah, he’s a clever one!” said Nastasya as he left. Then she opened the door and stood listening, but she couldn’t resist running downstairs after him. She was eager to hear what he would say to the landlady. She was clearly fascinated by Razumihin.

No sooner had she left the room than the sick man flung off the bedclothes and leapt out of bed like a madman. With burning, twitching impatience he had waited for them to be gone so that he might set to work. But to what work? Now, as though to spite him, it eluded him.

As soon as she left the room, the sick man threw off the covers and leapt out of bed like a madman. Burning with impatience and twitching, he had waited for them to leave so he could get to work. But what work? Now, as if to spite him, he could not remember.

“Good God, only tell me one thing: do they know of it yet or not? What if they know it and are only pretending, mocking me while I am laid up, and then they will come in and tell me that it’s been discovered long ago and that they have only... What am I to do now? That’s what I’ve forgotten, as though on purpose; forgotten it all at once, I remembered a minute ago.”

“Good God, just tell me one thing: do they know about it yet or not? What if they know and are only pretending? They could be mocking me while I’m laid up. Then they’ll come in and tell me it was discovered long ago and that they’ve only... What should I do now? That’s what I’ve forgotten, as if on purpose. I forgot it all at once. I remembered it a minute ago.”

He stood in the middle of the room and gazed in miserable bewilderment about him; he walked to the door, opened it, listened; but that was not what he wanted. Suddenly, as though recalling something, he rushed to the corner where there was a hole under the paper, began examining it, put his hand into the hole, fumbled—but that was not it. He went to the stove, opened it and began rummaging in the ashes; the frayed edges of his trousers and the rags cut off his pocket were lying there just as he had thrown them. No one had looked, then! Then he remembered the sock about which Razumihin had just been telling him. Yes, there it lay on the sofa under the quilt, but it was so covered with dust and grime that Zametov could not have seen anything on it.

He stood in the middle of the room, looking around in miserable confusion. He walked to the door, opened it, and listened. But that was not what he wanted. Suddenly, as if remembering something, he rushed to the corner where there was a hole under the wallpaper. He examined it, put his hand inside, and felt around, but that was not it. He went to the stove, opened it, and began searching through the ashes. The frayed edges of his trousers and the scraps cut from his pocket lay there just as he had thrown them. So no one had looked! Then he remembered the sock Razumihin had just been telling him about. Yes, there it was on the sofa under the quilt. But it was so covered in dust and grime that Zametov could not have seen anything on it.

“Bah, Zametov! The police office! And why am I sent for to the police office? Where’s the notice? Bah! I am mixing it up; that was then. I looked at my sock then, too, but now... now I have been ill. But what did Zametov come for? Why did Razumihin bring him?” he muttered, helplessly sitting on the sofa again. “What does it mean? Am I still in delirium, or is it real? I believe it is real.... Ah, I remember; I must escape! Make haste to escape. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes... but where? And where are my clothes? I’ve no boots. They’ve taken them away! They’ve hidden them! I understand! Ah, here is my coat—they passed that over! And here is money on the table, thank God! And here’s the I O U... I’ll take the money and go and take another lodging. They won’t find me!... Yes, but the address bureau? They’ll find me, Razumihin will find me. Better escape altogether... far away... to America, and let them do their worst! And take the I O U... it would be of use there.... What else shall I take? They think I am ill! They don’t know that I can walk, ha-ha-ha! I could see by their eyes that they know all about it! If only I could get downstairs! And what if they have set a watch there—policemen! What’s this, tea? Ah, and here is beer left, half a bottle, cold!”

“Bah, Zametov! The police station! Why have I been summoned to the police station? Where’s the notice? Bah! I’m getting mixed up. That was before. I looked at my sock then, too, but now... now I’ve been ill. But why did Zametov come? Why did Razumihin bring him?” he muttered, sinking helplessly onto the sofa again. “What does it mean? Am I still delirious, or is it real? I think it’s real.... Ah, I remember. I must escape! I must escape quickly. Yes, I must, I must escape! Yes... but where? And where are my clothes? I have no boots. They’ve taken them away! They’ve hidden them! I understand! Ah, here’s my coat. They overlooked it! And there’s money on the table, thank God! And here’s the IOU... I’ll take the money and find another place to stay. They won’t find me!... Yes, but what about the address bureau? They’ll find me. Razumihin will find me. Better to escape altogether... far away... to America, and let them do their worst! And I’ll take the IOU... it would be useful there.... What else should I take? They think I’m ill! They don’t know I can walk, ha-ha-ha! I could see in their eyes that they know all about it! If only I could get downstairs! But what if they’ve posted a watch there, policemen! What’s this, tea? Ah, and there’s some beer left, half a bottle, cold!”

He snatched up the bottle, which still contained a glassful of beer, and gulped it down with relish, as though quenching a flame in his breast. But in another minute the beer had gone to his head, and a faint and even pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He lay down and pulled the quilt over him. His sick and incoherent thoughts grew more and more disconnected, and soon a light, pleasant drowsiness came upon him. With a sense of comfort he nestled his head into the pillow, wrapped more closely about him the soft, wadded quilt which had replaced the old, ragged greatcoat, sighed softly and sank into a deep, sound, refreshing sleep.

He grabbed the bottle, which still held a glass of beer, and drank it down eagerly, as if putting out a fire in his chest. But within a minute the beer went to his head, and a faint, almost pleasant shiver ran down his spine. He lay down and pulled the quilt over himself. His feverish, jumbled thoughts grew more and more disconnected. Soon he felt pleasantly drowsy. He nestled his head comfortably into the pillow and wrapped the soft, padded quilt more closely around himself. The quilt had replaced his old, ragged overcoat. He sighed softly and fell into a deep, sound, refreshing sleep.

He woke up, hearing someone come in. He opened his eyes and saw Razumihin standing in the doorway, uncertain whether to come in or not. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the sofa and gazed at him, as though trying to recall something.

He woke up when he heard someone come in. He opened his eyes and saw Razumihin standing in the doorway, unsure whether to enter. Raskolnikov sat up quickly on the sofa and stared at him, as if trying to remember something.

“Ah, you are not asleep! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the parcel!” Razumihin shouted down the stairs. “You shall have the account directly.”

“Oh, you’re awake! Here I am! Nastasya, bring in the parcel!” Razumihin shouted down the stairs. “You’ll have the account right away.”

“What time is it?” asked Raskolnikov, looking round uneasily.

“What time is it?” Raskolnikov asked, looking around uneasily.

“Yes, you had a fine sleep, brother, it’s almost evening, it will be six o’clock directly. You have slept more than six hours.”

“Yes, you slept well, brother. It’s almost evening. It’ll be six o’clock soon. You’ve slept for more than six hours.”

“Good heavens! Have I?”

“Oh my God! Have I?”

“And why not? It will do you good. What’s the hurry? A tryst, is it? We’ve all time before us. I’ve been waiting for the last three hours for you; I’ve been up twice and found you asleep. I’ve called on Zossimov twice; not at home, only fancy! But no matter, he will turn up. And I’ve been out on my own business, too. You know I’ve been moving to-day, moving with my uncle. I have an uncle living with me now. But that’s no matter, to business. Give me the parcel, Nastasya. We will open it directly. And how do you feel now, brother?”

“And why not? It will do you good. What’s the hurry? Do you have a date? We have plenty of time. I’ve been waiting for you for three hours. I came up twice and found you asleep. I visited Zossimov twice, but he wasn’t home. Can you believe it? Never mind, he’ll show up. I’ve been out on my own business, too. You know I’ve been moving today, moving with my uncle. My uncle lives with me now. But never mind that. Let’s get down to business. Give me the package, Nastasya. We’ll open it right away. And how do you feel now, brother?”

“I am quite well, I am not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?”

“I’m quite well. I’m not ill. Razumihin, have you been here long?”

“I tell you I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.”

“I’m telling you, I’ve been waiting for the last three hours.”

“No, before.”

“How do you mean?”

“What do you mean?”

“How long have you been coming here?”

“Why I told you all about it this morning. Don’t you remember?”

“Why, I told you all about it this morning. Don’t you remember?”

Raskolnikov pondered. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could not remember alone, and looked inquiringly at Razumihin.

Raskolnikov thought it over. The morning seemed like a dream to him. He could not remember it on his own, so he looked at Razumihin questioningly.

“Hm!” said the latter, “he has forgotten. I fancied then that you were not quite yourself. Now you are better for your sleep.... You really look much better. First-rate! Well, to business. Look here, my dear boy.”

“Hm!” said the other man. “He has forgotten. I thought then that you weren’t quite yourself. Now you’re better after your sleep.... You really look much better. Excellent! Well, let’s get down to business. Look here, my dear boy.”

He began untying the bundle, which evidently interested him.

He began untying the bundle, which seemed to interest him.

“Believe me, brother, this is something specially near my heart. For we must make a man of you. Let’s begin from the top. Do you see this cap?” he said, taking out of the bundle a fairly good, though cheap and ordinary cap. “Let me try it on.”

“Believe me, brother, this is especially close to my heart. We have to make a man of you. Let’s start at the top. Do you see this cap?” he said, taking a fairly good cap from the bundle. It was cheap and ordinary, though. “Let me try it on.”

“Presently, afterwards,” said Raskolnikov, waving it off pettishly.

“Soon, later,” Raskolnikov said, waving it off irritably.

“Come, Rodya, my boy, don’t oppose it, afterwards will be too late; and I shan’t sleep all night, for I bought it by guess, without measure. Just right!” he cried triumphantly, fitting it on, “just your size! A proper head-covering is the first thing in dress and a recommendation in its own way. Tolstyakov, a friend of mine, is always obliged to take off his pudding basin when he goes into any public place where other people wear their hats or caps. People think he does it from slavish politeness, but it’s simply because he is ashamed of his bird’s nest; he is such a bashful fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two specimens of headgear: this Palmerston”—he took from the corner Raskolnikov’s old, battered hat, which for some unknown reason, he called a Palmerston—“or this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya, what do you suppose I paid for it, Nastasya!” he said, turning to her, seeing that Raskolnikov did not speak.

“Come on, Rodya, my boy, don’t resist. It’ll be too late afterward, and I won’t sleep all night. I bought it by guesswork, without taking your measurements. Just right!” he cried triumphantly as he fitted it on Raskolnikov. “It’s exactly your size! A proper hat is the first thing you need to dress well, and it makes a good impression too. My friend Tolstyakov always has to take off his pudding basin when he goes into a public place where others wear hats or caps. People think he does it out of servile politeness, but he’s simply ashamed of his bird’s nest. He’s such a shy fellow! Look, Nastasya, here are two examples of headwear: this Palmerston.” He took Raskolnikov’s old, battered hat from the corner. For some unknown reason, he called it a Palmerston. “Or this jewel! Guess the price, Rodya. What do you think I paid for it, Nastasya?” he said, turning to her when he saw that Raskolnikov wasn’t speaking.

“Twenty copecks, no more, I dare say,” answered Nastasya.

“Twenty copecks, no more, I’d guess,” Nastasya replied.

“Twenty copecks, silly!” he cried, offended. “Why, nowadays you would cost more than that—eighty copecks! And that only because it has been worn. And it’s bought on condition that when it’s worn out, they will give you another next year. Yes, on my word! Well, now let us pass to the United States of America, as they called them at school. I assure you I am proud of these breeches,” and he exhibited to Raskolnikov a pair of light, summer trousers of grey woollen material. “No holes, no spots, and quite respectable, although a little worn; and a waistcoat to match, quite in the fashion. And its being worn really is an improvement, it’s softer, smoother.... You see, Rodya, to my thinking, the great thing for getting on in the world is always to keep to the seasons; if you don’t insist on having asparagus in January, you keep your money in your purse; and it’s the same with this purchase. It’s summer now, so I’ve been buying summer things—warmer materials will be wanted for autumn, so you will have to throw these away in any case... especially as they will be done for by then from their own lack of coherence if not your higher standard of luxury. Come, price them! What do you say? Two roubles twenty-five copecks! And remember the condition: if you wear these out, you will have another suit for nothing! They only do business on that system at Fedyaev’s; if you’ve bought a thing once, you are satisfied for life, for you will never go there again of your own free will. Now for the boots. What do you say? You see that they are a bit worn, but they’ll last a couple of months, for it’s foreign work and foreign leather; the secretary of the English Embassy sold them last week—he had only worn them six days, but he was very short of cash. Price—a rouble and a half. A bargain?”

“Twenty copecks, you fool!” he cried, offended. “Why, these days you would cost more than that, eighty copecks! And that’s only because it’s been worn. It’s sold on the condition that when it wears out, they’ll give you another next year. Yes, I swear it! “Now let’s move on to the United States of America, as they called them at school. I assure you, I’m proud of these trousers.” He showed Raskolnikov a pair of lightweight summer trousers made of gray wool. “No holes, no stains, and quite respectable, though a little worn. There’s a matching vest, too, and it’s quite fashionable. Being worn is actually an improvement. It’s softer and smoother.... “You see, Rodya, I think the secret to getting ahead is always to stick to the seasons. If you don’t insist on asparagus in January, you keep your money in your pocket. It’s the same with this purchase. It’s summer now, so I’ve bought summer clothes. You’ll need warmer clothes in the fall, so you’ll have to throw these away anyway. Especially since they’ll have fallen apart by then, if your taste for luxury hasn’t finished them off first. “Come on, guess the price! What do you say? Two rubles and twenty-five copecks! And remember the condition: if you wear these out, you’ll get another suit for free! That’s the only way they do business at Fedyaev’s. Once you’ve bought something there, you’re satisfied for life, because you’ll never go back of your own free will. “Now for the boots. What do you say? You can see they’re a bit worn, but they’ll last a couple of months. They’re foreign-made, from foreign leather. The secretary of the English Embassy sold them last week. He’d only worn them for six days, but he was very short of cash. The price was a ruble and a half. A bargain?”

“But perhaps they won’t fit,” observed Nastasya.

“But perhaps they won’t fit,” said Nastasya.

“Not fit? Just look!” and he pulled out of his pocket Raskolnikov’s old, broken boot, stiffly coated with dry mud. “I did not go empty-handed—they took the size from this monster. We all did our best. And as to your linen, your landlady has seen to that. Here, to begin with are three shirts, hempen but with a fashionable front.... Well now then, eighty copecks the cap, two roubles twenty-five copecks the suit—together three roubles five copecks—a rouble and a half for the boots—for, you see, they are very good—and that makes four roubles fifty-five copecks; five roubles for the underclothes—they were bought in the lot—which makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in coppers. Will you take it? And so, Rodya, you are set up with a complete new rig-out, for your overcoat will serve, and even has a style of its own. That comes from getting one’s clothes from Sharmer’s! As for your socks and other things, I leave them to you; we’ve twenty-five roubles left. And as for Pashenka and paying for your lodging, don’t you worry. I tell you she’ll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your linen, for I daresay you will throw off your illness with your shirt.”

“Won’t fit? Just look!” He pulled Raskolnikov’s old, broken boot from his pocket. It was caked with dried mud. “I didn’t go empty-handed. They used this monster to get the size. We all did our best. And your landlady has taken care of your linen. Here, to start with, are three hemp shirts with fashionable fronts.... Now then, eighty copecks for the cap and two roubles twenty-five copecks for the suit. That’s three roubles five copecks. A rouble and a half for the boots, because they’re very good, you see. That makes four roubles fifty-five copecks. Five roubles for the underclothes, which were bought with the rest. That makes exactly nine roubles fifty-five copecks. Forty-five copecks change in copper coins. Will you take it? So, Rodya, you have a complete new outfit. Your overcoat will do, and it even has a style of its own. That’s what comes of getting your clothes from Sharmer’s! I’ll leave your socks and other things to you. We have twenty-five roubles left. And don’t worry about Pashenka or paying for your room. I tell you, she’ll trust you for anything. And now, brother, let me change your shirt. I daresay you’ll throw off your illness along with it.”

“Let me be! I don’t want to!” Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust to Razumihin’s efforts to be playful about his purchases.

“Leave me alone! I don’t want to!” Raskolnikov waved him off. He had listened with disgust as Razumihin tried to joke about his purchases.

“Come, brother, don’t tell me I’ve been trudging around for nothing,” Razumihin insisted. “Nastasya, don’t be bashful, but help me—that’s it,” and in spite of Raskolnikov’s resistance he changed his linen. The latter sank back on the pillows and for a minute or two said nothing.

“Come on, brother, don’t tell me I’ve been walking around for nothing,” Razumihin insisted. “Nastasya, don’t be shy. Help me, that’s it.” Despite Raskolnikov’s resistance, Razumihin changed his clothes. Raskolnikov sank back on the pillows and said nothing for a minute or two.

“It will be long before I get rid of them,” he thought. “What money was all that bought with?” he asked at last, gazing at the wall.

“It will be a long time before I get rid of them,” he thought. “What money was used to buy all that?” he finally asked, staring at the wall.

“Money? Why, your own, what the messenger brought from Vahrushin, your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that, too?”

“Money? Your own money, the money the messenger brought from Vahrushin. Your mother sent it. Have you forgotten that too?”

“I remember now,” said Raskolnikov after a long, sullen silence. Razumihin looked at him, frowning and uneasy.

After a long, sullen silence, Raskolnikov said, “I remember now.” Razumihin looked at him with an uneasy frown.

The door opened and a tall, stout man whose appearance seemed familiar to Raskolnikov came in.

The door opened, and a tall, heavyset man came in. He looked familiar to Raskolnikov.