Part 4

Chapter 4

27 min

Raskolnikov went straight to the house on the canal bank where Sonia lived. It was an old green house of three storeys. He found the porter and obtained from him vague directions as to the whereabouts of Kapernaumov, the tailor. Having found in the corner of the courtyard the entrance to the dark and narrow staircase, he mounted to the second floor and came out into a gallery that ran round the whole second storey over the yard. While he was wandering in the darkness, uncertain where to turn for Kapernaumov’s door, a door opened three paces from him; he mechanically took hold of it.

Raskolnikov went straight to the house on the canal bank where Sonia lived. It was an old, three-story green house. He found the porter, who gave him vague directions to Kapernaumov, the tailor. In a corner of the courtyard, Raskolnikov found the entrance to a dark, narrow staircase. He climbed to the second floor and came out onto a gallery overlooking the courtyard. It ran all the way around the second floor. He wandered in the dark, unsure where to find Kapernaumov’s door. Then a door opened three paces away, and he instinctively took hold of it.

“Who is there?” a woman’s voice asked uneasily.

“Who’s there?” a woman’s voice asked nervously.

“It’s I... come to see you,” answered Raskolnikov, and he walked into the tiny entry.

“It’s me... I’ve come to see you,” Raskolnikov answered. He walked into the tiny entryway.

On a broken chair stood a candle in a battered copper candlestick.

A candle in a battered copper candlestick stood on a broken chair.

“It’s you! Good heavens!” cried Sonia weakly, and she stood rooted to the spot.

“It’s you! Oh, my God!” Sonia cried weakly. She stood frozen in place.

“Which is your room? This way?” and Raskolnikov, trying not to look at her, hastened in.

“Which is your room? This way?” Raskolnikov hurried in, trying not to look at her.

A minute later Sonia, too, came in with the candle, set down the candlestick and, completely disconcerted, stood before him inexpressibly agitated and apparently frightened by his unexpected visit. The colour rushed suddenly to her pale face and tears came into her eyes... She felt sick and ashamed and happy, too.... Raskolnikov turned away quickly and sat on a chair by the table. He scanned the room in a rapid glance.

A minute later, Sonia came in with the candle and set down the candlestick. Completely flustered, she stood before him, terribly upset and apparently frightened by his unexpected visit. Her pale face suddenly flushed, and tears came to her eyes... She felt sick and ashamed, but happy too.... Raskolnikov turned away quickly and sat on a chair by the table. He glanced quickly around the room.

It was a large but exceedingly low-pitched room, the only one let by the Kapernaumovs, to whose rooms a closed door led in the wall on the left. In the opposite side on the right hand wall was another door, always kept locked. That led to the next flat, which formed a separate lodging. Sonia’s room looked like a barn; it was a very irregular quadrangle and this gave it a grotesque appearance. A wall with three windows looking out on to the canal ran aslant so that one corner formed a very acute angle, and it was difficult to see in it without very strong light. The other corner was disproportionately obtuse. There was scarcely any furniture in the big room: in the corner on the right was a bedstead, beside it, nearest the door, a chair. A plain, deal table covered by a blue cloth stood against the same wall, close to the door into the other flat. Two rush-bottom chairs stood by the table. On the opposite wall near the acute angle stood a small plain wooden chest of drawers looking, as it were, lost in a desert. That was all there was in the room. The yellow, scratched and shabby wall-paper was black in the corners. It must have been damp and full of fumes in the winter. There was every sign of poverty; even the bedstead had no curtain.

It was a large room with a very low ceiling, the only room the Kapernaumovs rented out. A closed door in the left wall led to their rooms. Another door, on the opposite wall, was always kept locked. It led to the next apartment, a separate lodging. Sonia’s room looked like a barn. It was a very irregular four-sided room, which gave it a grotesque appearance. One wall slanted across the room and had three windows overlooking the canal. As a result, one corner formed a very sharp angle, and it was hard to see into it without strong light. The other corner formed a disproportionately wide angle. There was scarcely any furniture in the large room. A bed stood in the right-hand corner, with a chair beside it, nearer the door. A plain pine table covered with a blue cloth stood against the same wall, close to the door to the other apartment. Two chairs with woven rush seats stood by the table. On the opposite wall, near the sharp corner, stood a small, plain wooden chest of drawers. It looked lost, as if in a desert. That was all the room contained. The yellow wallpaper was scratched and shabby, and black in the corners. The room must have been damp and full of fumes in winter. There were signs of poverty everywhere. Even the bed had no curtain.

Sonia looked in silence at her visitor, who was so attentively and unceremoniously scrutinising her room, and even began at last to tremble with terror, as though she was standing before her judge and the arbiter of her destinies.

Sonia watched her visitor in silence as he examined her room closely and without any restraint. At last, she even began to tremble with terror, as if she stood before a judge who would decide her fate.

“I am late.... It’s eleven, isn’t it?” he asked, still not lifting his eyes.

“I’m late.... It’s eleven, isn’t it?” he asked, still not looking up.

“Yes,” muttered Sonia, “oh yes, it is,” she added, hastily, as though in that lay her means of escape. “My landlady’s clock has just struck... I heard it myself....”

“Yes,” Sonia murmured. “Oh yes, it is,” she added quickly, as if that might help her escape. “My landlady’s clock just struck... I heard it myself....”

“I’ve come to you for the last time,” Raskolnikov went on gloomily, although this was the first time. “I may perhaps not see you again...”

“I’ve come to see you for the last time,” Raskolnikov continued gloomily, although this was his first visit. “I may not see you again...”

“Are you... going away?”

“I don’t know... to-morrow....”

“I don’t know... tomorrow....”

“Then you are not coming to Katerina Ivanovna to-morrow?” Sonia’s voice shook.

“Then you’re not coming to Katerina Ivanovna tomorrow?” Sonia’s voice shook.

“I don’t know. I shall know to-morrow morning.... Never mind that: I’ve come to say one word....”

“I don’t know. I’ll know tomorrow morning.... Never mind that. I’ve come to say one word....”

He raised his brooding eyes to her and suddenly noticed that he was sitting down while she was all the while standing before him.

He looked up at her, his eyes troubled. Suddenly, he noticed that he was sitting while she had been standing before him all along.

“Why are you standing? Sit down,” he said in a changed voice, gentle and friendly.

“Why are you standing? Sit down,” he said, his voice now gentle and friendly.

She sat down. He looked kindly and almost compassionately at her.

She sat down. He looked at her kindly, almost compassionately.

“How thin you are! What a hand! Quite transparent, like a dead hand.”

“How thin you are! Look at your hand! It’s almost transparent, like a dead person’s hand.”

He took her hand. Sonia smiled faintly.

“I have always been like that,” she said.

“I’ve always been like that,” she said.

“Even when you lived at home?”

“Yes.”

“Of course, you were,” he added abruptly and the expression of his face and the sound of his voice changed again suddenly.

“Of course, you were,” he added abruptly. His expression and the sound of his voice suddenly changed again.

He looked round him once more.

He looked around once more.

“You rent this room from the Kapernaumovs?”

“Yes....”

“They live there, through that door?”

“They live through that door?”

“Yes.... They have another room like this.”

“All in one room?”

“Yes.”

“I should be afraid in your room at night,” he observed gloomily.

“I’d be afraid to stay in your room at night,” he said gloomily.

“They are very good people, very kind,” answered Sonia, who still seemed bewildered, “and all the furniture, everything... everything is theirs. And they are very kind and the children, too, often come to see me.”

“They’re very good people, very kind,” Sonia replied, still seeming confused. “And all the furniture, everything... everything belongs to them. And they’re very kind. Their children often come to see me, too.”

“They all stammer, don’t they?”

“Yes.... He stammers and he’s lame. And his wife, too.... It’s not exactly that she stammers, but she can’t speak plainly. She is a very kind woman. And he used to be a house serf. And there are seven children... and it’s only the eldest one that stammers and the others are simply ill... but they don’t stammer.... But where did you hear about them?” she added with some surprise.

“Yes.... He stammers, and he’s lame. And his wife, too.... She doesn’t exactly stammer, but she can’t speak clearly. She’s a very kind woman. And he used to be a house serf. And they have seven children... only the oldest stammers. The others are simply ill... but they don’t stammer.... But where did you hear about them?” she added, sounding a little surprised.

“Your father told me, then. He told me all about you.... And how you went out at six o’clock and came back at nine and how Katerina Ivanovna knelt down by your bed.”

“Your father told me, then. He told me all about you.... He told me how you went out at six and came back at nine. And how Katerina Ivanovna knelt down by your bed.”

Sonia was confused.

“I fancied I saw him to-day,” she whispered hesitatingly.

“I thought I saw him today,” she whispered hesitantly.

“Whom?”

“Who?”

“Father. I was walking in the street, out there at the corner, about ten o’clock and he seemed to be walking in front. It looked just like him. I wanted to go to Katerina Ivanovna....”

“Father. I was walking in the street, out there by the corner, around ten o’clock. He seemed to be walking ahead of me. It looked just like him. I wanted to go to Katerina Ivanovna....”

“You were walking in the streets?”

“You were walking through the streets?”

“Yes,” Sonia whispered abruptly, again overcome with confusion and looking down.

“Yes,” Sonia whispered suddenly, again overwhelmed with confusion as she looked down.

“Katerina Ivanovna used to beat you, I dare say?”

“Katerina Ivanovna used to beat you, I suppose?”

“Oh no, what are you saying? No!” Sonia looked at him almost with dismay.

“Oh no, what are you saying? No!” Sonia looked at him, almost in dismay.

“You love her, then?”

“So you love her?”

“Love her? Of course!” said Sonia with plaintive emphasis, and she clasped her hands in distress. “Ah, you don’t.... If you only knew! You see, she is quite like a child.... Her mind is quite unhinged, you see... from sorrow. And how clever she used to be... how generous... how kind! Ah, you don’t understand, you don’t understand!”

“Love her? Of course!” Sonia said pleadingly, clasping her hands in distress. “Oh, you don’t.... If only you knew! You see, she’s just like a child.... Her mind has come undone, you see... from sorrow. And she used to be so clever... so generous... so kind! Oh, you don’t understand, you don’t understand!”

Sonia said this as though in despair, wringing her hands in excitement and distress. Her pale cheeks flushed, there was a look of anguish in her eyes. It was clear that she was stirred to the very depths, that she was longing to speak, to champion, to express something. A sort of insatiable compassion, if one may so express it, was reflected in every feature of her face.

Sonia spoke as if she were in despair, wringing her hands in agitation and distress. Her pale cheeks flushed, and her eyes filled with anguish. Clearly, she was deeply moved. She longed to speak, to defend, to express something. A kind of insatiable compassion, if one may call it that, showed in every feature of her face.

“Beat me! how can you? Good heavens, beat me! And if she did beat me, what then? What of it? You know nothing, nothing about it.... She is so unhappy... ah, how unhappy! And ill.... She is seeking righteousness, she is pure. She has such faith that there must be righteousness everywhere and she expects it.... And if you were to torture her, she wouldn’t do wrong. She doesn’t see that it’s impossible for people to be righteous and she is angry at it. Like a child, like a child. She is good!”

“Beat me! How can you say that? Good heavens, beat me! And even if she did beat me, so what? What does it matter? You know nothing, nothing about it.... She is so unhappy... oh, so unhappy! And sick.... She wants justice, and she is pure. She believes so strongly that there must be justice everywhere, and she expects it.... Even if you tortured her, she wouldn’t do wrong. She doesn’t see that it’s impossible for people to be just, and she gets angry about it. Like a child, like a child. She is good!”

“And what will happen to you?”

Sonia looked at him inquiringly.

Sonia looked at him questioningly.

“They are left on your hands, you see. They were all on your hands before, though.... And your father came to you to beg for drink. Well, how will it be now?”

“You’re left to take care of them, you see. You had to take care of them all before, though.... And your father came to you to beg for a drink. Well, what will happen now?”

“I don’t know,” Sonia articulated mournfully.

“I don’t know,” Sonia said sadly.

“Will they stay there?”

“I don’t know.... They are in debt for the lodging, but the landlady, I hear, said to-day that she wanted to get rid of them, and Katerina Ivanovna says that she won’t stay another minute.”

“I don’t know.... They owe money for their lodging. But I hear the landlady said today that she wanted them to leave. And Katerina Ivanovna says she won’t stay another minute.”

“How is it she is so bold? She relies upon you?”

“Why is she so bold? Is she relying on you?”

“Oh, no, don’t talk like that.... We are one, we live like one.” Sonia was agitated again and even angry, as though a canary or some other little bird were to be angry. “And what could she do? What, what could she do?” she persisted, getting hot and excited. “And how she cried to-day! Her mind is unhinged, haven’t you noticed it? At one minute she is worrying like a child that everything should be right to-morrow, the lunch and all that.... Then she is wringing her hands, spitting blood, weeping, and all at once she will begin knocking her head against the wall, in despair. Then she will be comforted again. She builds all her hopes on you; she says that you will help her now and that she will borrow a little money somewhere and go to her native town with me and set up a boarding school for the daughters of gentlemen and take me to superintend it, and we will begin a new splendid life. And she kisses and hugs me, comforts me, and you know she has such faith, such faith in her fancies! One can’t contradict her. And all the day long she has been washing, cleaning, mending. She dragged the wash tub into the room with her feeble hands and sank on the bed, gasping for breath. We went this morning to the shops to buy shoes for Polenka and Lida for theirs are quite worn out. Only the money we’d reckoned wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. And she picked out such dear little boots, for she has taste, you don’t know. And there in the shop she burst out crying before the shopmen because she hadn’t enough.... Ah, it was sad to see her....”

“Oh, no, don’t talk like that.... We are one, we live as one.” Sonia was upset again, even angry. It was like seeing a canary or some other little bird get angry. “And what could she do? What, what could she do?” she insisted, growing more and more upset. “And how she cried today! Her mind is coming apart. Haven’t you noticed? One minute she’s worrying like a child about getting everything right tomorrow, the lunch and all that.... Then she’s wringing her hands, spitting blood, and crying. Suddenly she starts banging her head against the wall in despair. Then she’s comforted again. She’s pinned all her hopes on you. She says you’ll help her now, and she’ll borrow a little money somewhere. Then she’ll go with me to her hometown and open a boarding school for the daughters of gentlemen. She’ll put me in charge, and we’ll begin a wonderful new life. And she kisses and hugs me and comforts me. You know, she has such faith, such faith in her dreams! You can’t contradict her. And all day long she’s been washing, cleaning, and mending. She dragged the wash tub into the room with her weak hands. Then she sank onto the bed, gasping for breath. We went to the shops this morning to buy shoes for Polenka and Lida. Theirs are completely worn out. But the money we’d counted on wasn’t enough, not nearly enough. And she picked out such lovely little boots. She has such taste, you have no idea. And there in the shop she burst into tears in front of the shopkeepers because she didn’t have enough.... Oh, it was sad to see her....”

“Well, after that I can understand your living like this,” Raskolnikov said with a bitter smile.

“Well, after that, I can understand why you live like this,” Raskolnikov said with a bitter smile.

“And aren’t you sorry for them? Aren’t you sorry?” Sonia flew at him again. “Why, I know, you gave your last penny yourself, though you’d seen nothing of it, and if you’d seen everything, oh dear! And how often, how often I’ve brought her to tears! Only last week! Yes, I! Only a week before his death. I was cruel! And how often I’ve done it! Ah, I’ve been wretched at the thought of it all day!”

“And don’t you feel sorry for them? Don’t you?” Sonia cried again. “I know you gave your last penny yourself, though you hadn’t seen any of it. And if you had seen everything, oh dear! And how many times, how many times have I made her cry! Just last week! Yes, I did! Just a week before he died. I was cruel! And how many times have I done it! Oh, I’ve been miserable thinking about it all day!”

Sonia wrung her hands as she spoke at the pain of remembering it.

Sonia wrung her hands as she spoke, pained by the memory.

“You were cruel?”

“Yes, I—I. I went to see them,” she went on, weeping, “and father said, ‘read me something, Sonia, my head aches, read to me, here’s a book.’ He had a book he had got from Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, he lives there, he always used to get hold of such funny books. And I said, ‘I can’t stay,’ as I didn’t want to read, and I’d gone in chiefly to show Katerina Ivanovna some collars. Lizaveta, the pedlar, sold me some collars and cuffs cheap, pretty, new, embroidered ones. Katerina Ivanovna liked them very much; she put them on and looked at herself in the glass and was delighted with them. ‘Make me a present of them, Sonia,’ she said, ‘please do.’ ‘Please do,’ she said, she wanted them so much. And when could she wear them? They just reminded her of her old happy days. She looked at herself in the glass, admired herself, and she has no clothes at all, no things of her own, hasn’t had all these years! And she never asks anyone for anything; she is proud, she’d sooner give away everything. And these she asked for, she liked them so much. And I was sorry to give them. ‘What use are they to you, Katerina Ivanovna?’ I said. I spoke like that to her, I ought not to have said that! She gave me such a look. And she was so grieved, so grieved at my refusing her. And it was so sad to see.... And she was not grieved for the collars, but for my refusing, I saw that. Ah, if only I could bring it all back, change it, take back those words! Ah, if I... but it’s nothing to you!”

“Yes, I, I went to see them,” she continued, weeping. “Father said, ‘Read me something, Sonia. My head aches. Read to me. Here’s a book.’ He had a book he’d gotten from Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, who lives there. Lebeziatnikov always used to find such funny books. I said, ‘I can’t stay,’ because I didn’t want to read. I’d gone there mainly to show Katerina Ivanovna some collars. Lizaveta, the peddler, had sold me some collars and cuffs cheaply. They were pretty, new, and embroidered. Katerina Ivanovna liked them very much. She put them on and looked at herself in the mirror. She was delighted with them. ‘Give them to me as a present, Sonia,’ she said. ‘Please do.’ ‘Please do,’ she said. She wanted them so much. But when could she wear them? They just reminded her of her happy days long ago. She looked in the mirror and admired herself. And she has no clothes at all, nothing of her own. She hasn’t had anything of her own for years! She never asks anyone for anything. She’s proud and would rather give everything away. But she asked for these because she liked them so much. And I didn’t want to give them to her. ‘What use are they to you, Katerina Ivanovna?’ I said. I spoke to her like that. I shouldn’t have said it! She gave me such a look. She was so hurt, so hurt that I’d refused her. It was so sad to see.... And she wasn’t hurt about the collars. I could see it was my refusal that hurt her. Oh, if only I could bring it all back and change it, take back those words! Oh, if I... but it’s nothing to you!”

“Did you know Lizaveta, the pedlar?”

“Did you know Lizaveta, the peddler?”

“Yes.... Did you know her?” Sonia asked with some surprise.

“Yes.... Did you know her?” Sonia asked, a little surprised.

“Katerina Ivanovna is in consumption, rapid consumption; she will soon die,” said Raskolnikov after a pause, without answering her question.

“Katerina Ivanovna has tuberculosis, a rapidly progressing case. She will die soon,” Raskolnikov said after a pause, without answering her question.

“Oh, no, no, no!”

And Sonia unconsciously clutched both his hands, as though imploring that she should not.

And Sonia instinctively clutched both his hands, as if begging not to.

“But it will be better if she does die.”

“But it will be better if she dies.”

“No, not better, not at all better!” Sonia unconsciously repeated in dismay.

“No, not better, not at all better!” Sonia repeated without thinking, in dismay.

“And the children? What can you do except take them to live with you?”

“And the children? What else can you do but take them in?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” cried Sonia, almost in despair, and she put her hands to her head.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Sonia cried, almost in despair. She put her hands to her head.

It was evident that that idea had very often occurred to her before and he had only roused it again.

Clearly, the idea had occurred to her many times before. He had only brought it back to mind.

“And, what, if even now, while Katerina Ivanovna is alive, you get ill and are taken to the hospital, what will happen then?” he persisted pitilessly.

“And what if you get sick and are taken to the hospital while Katerina Ivanovna is still alive? What will happen then?” he pressed mercilessly.

“How can you? That cannot be!”

“How can you? That can't be true!”

And Sonia’s face worked with awful terror.

And Sonia’s face twisted with terrible fear.

“Cannot be?” Raskolnikov went on with a harsh smile. “You are not insured against it, are you? What will happen to them then? They will be in the street, all of them, she will cough and beg and knock her head against some wall, as she did to-day, and the children will cry.... Then she will fall down, be taken to the police station and to the hospital, she will die, and the children...”

“Can’t happen?” Raskolnikov went on with a harsh smile. “You can’t be sure it won’t happen, can you? What will happen to them then? They’ll all be out on the street. She’ll cough and beg and bang her head against a wall, as she did today. The children will cry.... Then she’ll collapse and be taken to the police station and then to the hospital. She’ll die, and the children...”

“Oh, no.... God will not let it be!” broke at last from Sonia’s overburdened bosom.

“Oh, no.... God will not let it happen!” Sonia finally cried, overwhelmed.

She listened, looking imploringly at him, clasping her hands in dumb entreaty, as though it all depended upon him.

She listened, looking at him pleadingly and clasping her hands in a silent plea, as if it all depended on him.

Raskolnikov got up and began to walk about the room. A minute passed. Sonia was standing with her hands and her head hanging in terrible dejection.

Raskolnikov got up and began to walk around the room. A minute passed. Sonia stood with her head and hands hanging, utterly dejected.

“And can’t you save? Put by for a rainy day?” he asked, stopping suddenly before her.

“And can’t you save? Put some money aside for a rainy day?” he asked, stopping suddenly in front of her.

“No,” whispered Sonia.

“Of course not. Have you tried?” he added almost ironically.

“Of course not. Have you tried?” he added, almost ironically.

“Yes.”

“And it didn’t come off! Of course not! No need to ask.”

“And it didn’t work out! Of course not! No need to ask.”

And again he paced the room. Another minute passed.

He paced the room again. Another minute passed.

“You don’t get money every day?”

Sonia was more confused than ever and colour rushed into her face again.

Sonia was more confused than ever, and her face flushed again.

“No,” she whispered with a painful effort.

“No,” she whispered, with painful effort.

“It will be the same with Polenka, no doubt,” he said suddenly.

“The same thing will happen to Polenka, no doubt,” he said suddenly.

“No, no! It can’t be, no!” Sonia cried aloud in desperation, as though she had been stabbed. “God would not allow anything so awful!”

“No, no! It can’t be, no!” Sonia cried out in desperation, as if she had been stabbed. “God wouldn’t allow anything so awful!”

“He lets others come to it.”

“No, no! God will protect her, God!” she repeated beside herself.

“No, no! God will protect her, God!” she repeated, frantic with distress.

“But, perhaps, there is no God at all,” Raskolnikov answered with a sort of malignance, laughed and looked at her.

“But perhaps there is no God at all,” Raskolnikov replied with a hint of malice. He laughed and looked at her.

Sonia’s face suddenly changed; a tremor passed over it. She looked at him with unutterable reproach, tried to say something, but could not speak and broke into bitter, bitter sobs, hiding her face in her hands.

Sonia’s face suddenly changed. A tremor passed over it. She looked at him with a reproach too deep for words. She tried to say something but could not speak. She hid her face in her hands and burst into bitter, bitter sobs.

“You say Katerina Ivanovna’s mind is unhinged; your own mind is unhinged,” he said after a brief silence.

“You say Katerina Ivanovna has lost her mind, but you’ve lost your own mind,” he said after a brief silence.

Five minutes passed. He still paced up and down the room in silence, not looking at her. At last he went up to her; his eyes glittered. He put his two hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her tearful face. His eyes were hard, feverish and piercing, his lips were twitching. All at once he bent down quickly and dropping to the ground, kissed her foot. Sonia drew back from him as from a madman. And certainly he looked like a madman.

Five minutes passed. He kept pacing silently around the room, without looking at her. At last, he went up to her. His eyes glittered. He put both hands on her shoulders and looked straight into her tearful face. His eyes were hard, feverish, and piercing. His lips twitched. Suddenly, he bent down, dropped to the ground, and kissed her foot. Sonia pulled away from him as if he were mad. And he certainly looked mad.

“What are you doing to me?” she muttered, turning pale, and a sudden anguish clutched at her heart.

“What are you doing to me?” she muttered, turning pale. Sudden anguish gripped her heart.

He stood up at once.

He stood up immediately.

“I did not bow down to you, I bowed down to all the suffering of humanity,” he said wildly and walked away to the window. “Listen,” he added, turning to her a minute later. “I said just now to an insolent man that he was not worth your little finger... and that I did my sister honour making her sit beside you.”

“I wasn’t bowing to you. I was bowing to all the suffering of humanity,” he said wildly, walking over to the window. A minute later, he turned to her. “Listen,” he added. “I just told a rude man that he wasn’t worth your little finger... and that I honored my sister by having her sit beside you.”

“Ach, you said that to them! And in her presence?” cried Sonia, frightened. “Sit down with me! An honour! Why, I’m... dishonourable.... Ah, why did you say that?”

“Oh, you said that to them! And in front of her?” cried Sonia, frightened. “Sit down with me! An honor! But I’m... dishonorable.... Oh, why did you say that?”

“It was not because of your dishonour and your sin I said that of you, but because of your great suffering. But you are a great sinner, that’s true,” he added almost solemnly, “and your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing. Isn’t that fearful? Isn’t it fearful that you are living in this filth which you loathe so, and at the same time you know yourself (you’ve only to open your eyes) that you are not helping anyone by it, not saving anyone from anything? Tell me,” he went on almost in a frenzy, “how this shame and degradation can exist in you side by side with other, opposite, holy feelings? It would be better, a thousand times better and wiser to leap into the water and end it all!”

“It wasn’t because of your dishonor or your sin that I said that about you. It was because of your great suffering. But you are a great sinner, that’s true,” he added almost solemnly. “And your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing. Isn’t that terrible? You live in this filth that you hate so much. Yet you know, if you would only open your eyes, that you aren’t helping anyone by living this way. You aren’t saving anyone from anything. Isn’t that terrible? Tell me,” he went on, almost frantic, “how can this shame and degradation exist in you alongside other, opposite, holy feelings? It would be better, a thousand times better and wiser, to jump into the water and end it all!”

“But what would become of them?” Sonia asked faintly, gazing at him with eyes of anguish, but not seeming surprised at his suggestion.

“But what would happen to them?” Sonia asked weakly. She looked at him with anguish in her eyes, but did not seem surprised by his suggestion.

Raskolnikov looked strangely at her. He read it all in her face; so she must have had that thought already, perhaps many times, and earnestly she had thought out in her despair how to end it and so earnestly, that now she scarcely wondered at his suggestion. She had not even noticed the cruelty of his words. (The significance of his reproaches and his peculiar attitude to her shame she had, of course, not noticed either, and that, too, was clear to him.) But he saw how monstrously the thought of her disgraceful, shameful position was torturing her and had long tortured her. “What, what,” he thought, “could hitherto have hindered her from putting an end to it?” Only then he realised what those poor little orphan children and that pitiful half-crazy Katerina Ivanovna, knocking her head against the wall in her consumption, meant for Sonia.

Raskolnikov gave her a strange look. He could read it all in her face. She must have had that thought already, perhaps many times. In her despair, she had thought earnestly about how to end it. She had thought about it so earnestly that his suggestion now hardly surprised her. She had not even noticed the cruelty of his words. (Of course, she had not noticed what his reproaches meant or his strange attitude toward her shame. That, too, was clear to him.) But he saw how terribly her disgraceful, shameful position was tormenting her, and how long it had tormented her. “What, what,” he thought, “could have kept her from putting an end to it until now?” Only then did he realize what those poor little orphan children meant to Sonia. He also understood what Katerina Ivanovna meant to her. Katerina was pitiful and half-crazy, knocking her head against the wall as she suffered from consumption.

But, nevertheless, it was clear to him again that with her character and the amount of education she had after all received, she could not in any case remain so. He was still confronted by the question, how could she have remained so long in that position without going out of her mind, since she could not bring herself to jump into the water? Of course he knew that Sonia’s position was an exceptional case, though unhappily not unique and not infrequent, indeed; but that very exceptionalness, her tinge of education, her previous life might, one would have thought, have killed her at the first step on that revolting path. What held her up—surely not depravity? All that infamy had obviously only touched her mechanically, not one drop of real depravity had penetrated to her heart; he saw that. He saw through her as she stood before him....

Yet it was clear to him again that she could not stay as she was. Her character and the education she had received made that impossible. Still, he faced the question of how she had remained in that position so long without losing her mind. She could not bring herself to jump into the water. Of course, he knew that Sonia’s situation was exceptional, though sadly neither unique nor uncommon. Yet her unusual circumstances, her bit of education, and her former life might, one would have thought, have killed her when she first set foot on that disgusting path. What kept her going? Surely not depravity? He could see that all that shame had touched her only mechanically. Not one drop of real depravity had reached her heart. He saw right through her as she stood before him....

“There are three ways before her,” he thought, “the canal, the madhouse, or... at last to sink into depravity which obscures the mind and turns the heart to stone.”

“She has three paths ahead of her,” he thought, “the canal, the mental hospital, or... finally sinking into depravity that clouds the mind and turns the heart to stone.”

The last idea was the most revolting, but he was a sceptic, he was young, abstract, and therefore cruel, and so he could not help believing that the last end was the most likely.

The last idea was the most revolting. But he was skeptical, young, and prone to abstract thinking, and therefore cruel. So he could not help believing that the last outcome was the most likely.

“But can that be true?” he cried to himself. “Can that creature who has still preserved the purity of her spirit be consciously drawn at last into that sink of filth and iniquity? Can the process already have begun? Can it be that she has only been able to bear it till now, because vice has begun to be less loathsome to her? No, no, that cannot be!” he cried, as Sonia had just before. “No, what has kept her from the canal till now is the idea of sin and they, the children.... And if she has not gone out of her mind... but who says she has not gone out of her mind? Is she in her senses? Can one talk, can one reason as she does? How can she sit on the edge of the abyss of loathsomeness into which she is slipping and refuse to listen when she is told of danger? Does she expect a miracle? No doubt she does. Doesn’t that all mean madness?”

“But can that be true?” he cried to himself. “Can this woman, who has kept her spirit pure, knowingly let herself be drawn into that pit of filth and evil? Can it have already begun? Has she been able to endure it until now only because vice has become less repulsive to her? No, no, that cannot be!” he cried, just as Sonia had moments before. “No, what has kept her from the canal until now is the thought of sin and the children.... And if she has not gone mad... but who says she has not gone mad? Is she in her right mind? Can anyone talk and reason as she does? How can she sit at the edge of the horrible abyss she is slipping into and refuse to listen to warnings? Does she expect a miracle? No doubt she does. Doesn’t all that mean she is mad?”

He stayed obstinately at that thought. He liked that explanation indeed better than any other. He began looking more intently at her.

He stubbornly held on to that thought. He liked that explanation better than any other. He began to look at her more intently.

“So you pray to God a great deal, Sonia?” he asked her.

“So you pray to God a lot, Sonia?” he asked her.

Sonia did not speak; he stood beside her waiting for an answer.

Sonia said nothing. He stood beside her, waiting for an answer.

“What should I be without God?” she whispered rapidly, forcibly, glancing at him with suddenly flashing eyes, and squeezing his hand.

“What would I be without God?” she whispered quickly and forcefully. Her eyes suddenly flashed as she looked at him and squeezed his hand.

“Ah, so that is it!” he thought.

“Ah, so that’s it!” he thought.

“And what does God do for you?” he asked, probing her further.

“And what does God do for you?” he asked, pressing her for an answer.

Sonia was silent a long while, as though she could not answer. Her weak chest kept heaving with emotion.

Sonia was silent for a long time, as if she could not answer. Her frail chest kept heaving with emotion.

“Be silent! Don’t ask! You don’t deserve!” she cried suddenly, looking sternly and wrathfully at him.

“Be quiet! Don’t ask! You don’t deserve to!” she cried suddenly, looking at him sternly and angrily.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he repeated to himself.

“He does everything,” she whispered quickly, looking down again.

“That’s the way out! That’s the explanation,” he decided, scrutinising her with eager curiosity, with a new, strange, almost morbid feeling. He gazed at that pale, thin, irregular, angular little face, those soft blue eyes, which could flash with such fire, such stern energy, that little body still shaking with indignation and anger—and it all seemed to him more and more strange, almost impossible. “She is a religious maniac!” he repeated to himself.

“That’s the way out! That’s the explanation,” he decided. He studied her with eager curiosity and a new, strange, almost morbid feeling. He looked at her pale, thin little face, with its irregular, angular features. He looked at her soft blue eyes, which could flash with such fire and stern energy. Her small body was still shaking with indignation and anger. It all seemed more and more strange to him, almost impossible. “She is a religious fanatic!” he repeated to himself.

There was a book lying on the chest of drawers. He had noticed it every time he paced up and down the room. Now he took it up and looked at it. It was the New Testament in the Russian translation. It was bound in leather, old and worn.

A book lay on the chest of drawers. He had noticed it every time he paced around the room. Now he picked it up and looked at it. It was a Russian translation of the New Testament. Its leather binding was old and worn.

“Where did you get that?” he called to her across the room.

She was still standing in the same place, three steps from the table.

“It was brought me,” she answered, as it were unwillingly, not looking at him.

“It was brought to me,” she answered, as if reluctantly, without looking at him.

“Who brought it?”

“Lizaveta, I asked her for it.”

“Lizaveta! strange!” he thought.

“Lizaveta! How strange!” he thought.

Everything about Sonia seemed to him stranger and more wonderful every moment. He carried the book to the candle and began to turn over the pages.

Every moment, everything about Sonia seemed stranger and more wonderful to him. He carried the book to the candle and began turning its pages.

“Where is the story of Lazarus?” he asked suddenly.

Sonia looked obstinately at the ground and would not answer. She was standing sideways to the table.

Sonia stared stubbornly at the ground and refused to answer. She stood sideways to the table.

“Where is the raising of Lazarus? Find it for me, Sonia.”

“Where is the story of Lazarus being raised from the dead? Find it for me, Sonia.”

She stole a glance at him.

She glanced at him discreetly.

“You are not looking in the right place.... It’s in the fourth gospel,” she whispered sternly, without looking at him.

“You’re looking in the wrong place.... It’s in the fourth gospel,” she whispered sternly, without looking at him.

“Find it and read it to me,” he said. He sat down with his elbow on the table, leaned his head on his hand and looked away sullenly, prepared to listen.

“Find it and read it to me,” he said. He sat down, rested his elbow on the table, and leaned his head on his hand. He looked away sullenly, ready to listen.

“In three weeks’ time they’ll welcome me in the madhouse! I shall be there if I am not in a worse place,” he muttered to himself.

“In three weeks, they’ll welcome me into the mental hospital! I’ll be there, unless I’m somewhere worse,” he muttered to himself.

Sonia heard Raskolnikov’s request distrustfully and moved hesitating to the table. She took the book however.

Sonia listened to Raskolnikov’s request with distrust and hesitated as she moved to the table. But she took the book.

“Haven’t you read it?” she asked, looking up at him across the table.

Her voice became sterner and sterner.

Her voice grew increasingly stern.

“Long ago.... When I was at school. Read!”

“And haven’t you heard it in church?”

“I... haven’t been. Do you often go?”

“I... haven’t been. Do you go often?”

“N-no,” whispered Sonia.

Raskolnikov smiled.

“I understand.... And you won’t go to your father’s funeral to-morrow?”

“I understand.... And you won’t go to your father’s funeral tomorrow?”

“Yes, I shall. I was at church last week, too... I had a requiem service.”

“Yes, I will. I went to church last week, too... I had a memorial service.”

“For whom?”

“Who for?”

“For Lizaveta. She was killed with an axe.”

His nerves were more and more strained. His head began to go round.

His nerves grew more and more strained. His head began to spin.

“Were you friends with Lizaveta?”

“Yes.... She was good... she used to come... not often... she couldn’t.... We used to read together and... talk. She will see God.”

“Yes.... She was good... she used to visit... not often... she couldn’t.... We used to read together and... talk. She will see God.”

The last phrase sounded strange in his ears. And here was something new again: the mysterious meetings with Lizaveta and both of them—religious maniacs.

The last phrase sounded strange to him. And here was something new again: the mysterious meetings with Lizaveta, and the fact that both of them were religious fanatics.

“I shall be a religious maniac myself soon! It’s infectious!”

“I’ll be a religious maniac myself soon! It’s contagious!”

“Read!” he cried irritably and insistently.

“Read!” he demanded, irritated and insistent.

Sonia still hesitated. Her heart was throbbing. She hardly dared to read to him. He looked almost with exasperation at the “unhappy lunatic.”

Sonia still hesitated. Her heart was pounding. She hardly dared to read to him. He looked at the “unhappy lunatic” with almost visible frustration.

“What for? You don’t believe?...” she whispered softly and as it were breathlessly.

“What for? You don’t believe?...” she whispered softly, almost breathlessly.

“Read! I want you to,” he persisted. “You used to read to Lizaveta.”

“Read! I want you to,” he insisted. “You used to read to Lizaveta.”

Sonia opened the book and found the place. Her hands were shaking, her voice failed her. Twice she tried to begin and could not bring out the first syllable.

Sonia opened the book and found the passage. Her hands were shaking, and her voice failed her. Twice she tried to begin, but she could not get out the first syllable.

“Now a certain man was sick named Lazarus of Bethany...” she forced herself at last to read, but at the third word her voice broke like an overstrained string. There was a catch in her breath.

“A man named Lazarus of Bethany was sick...” At last, she forced herself to read. But on the third word, her voice broke like an overstretched string. Her breath caught.

Raskolnikov saw in part why Sonia could not bring herself to read to him and the more he saw this, the more roughly and irritably he insisted on her doing so. He understood only too well how painful it was for her to betray and unveil all that was her own. He understood that these feelings really were her secret treasure, which she had kept perhaps for years, perhaps from childhood, while she lived with an unhappy father and a distracted stepmother crazed by grief, in the midst of starving children and unseemly abuse and reproaches. But at the same time he knew now and knew for certain that, although it filled her with dread and suffering, yet she had a tormenting desire to read and to read to him that he might hear it, and to read now whatever might come of it!... He read this in her eyes, he could see it in her intense emotion. She mastered herself, controlled the spasm in her throat and went on reading the eleventh chapter of St. John. She went on to the nineteenth verse:

Raskolnikov understood some of the reasons Sonia could not bring herself to read to him. The more he understood, the more roughly and irritably he insisted that she read. He knew only too well how painful it was for her to expose and reveal all that was her own. He understood that these feelings really were her secret treasure. She had kept them perhaps for years, perhaps since childhood. All that time, she had lived with an unhappy father and a distracted stepmother driven mad by grief. She had lived among starving children, shameful abuse, and reproaches. But now he also knew for certain that she had a tormenting desire to read. Although reading filled her with dread and suffering, she wanted to read to him, so he could hear it. She wanted to read now, whatever might come of it!... He could see this desire in her eyes and in her intense emotion. She mastered herself, controlled the spasm in her throat, and continued reading the eleventh chapter of St. John. She went on to the nineteenth verse:

“And many of the Jews came to Martha and Mary to comfort them concerning their brother.

“And many of the Jews came to comfort Martha and Mary about their brother.

“Then Martha as soon as she heard that Jesus was coming went and met Him: but Mary sat still in the house.

“Then, as soon as Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him. But Mary stayed in the house.

“Then said Martha unto Jesus, Lord, if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.

“Then Martha said to Jesus, Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.

“But I know that even now whatsoever Thou wilt ask of God, God will give it Thee....”

“But I know that even now, God will give you whatever you ask of him....”

Then she stopped again with a shamefaced feeling that her voice would quiver and break again.

Then she stopped again, embarrassed that her voice would tremble and break again.

“Jesus said unto her, thy brother shall rise again.

“Jesus said to her, your brother will rise again.

“Martha saith unto Him, I know that he shall rise again in the resurrection, at the last day.

“Martha said to him, I know he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.

“Jesus said unto her, I am the resurrection and the life: he that believeth in Me though he were dead, yet shall he live.

“Jesus said to her, I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me will live, even though they die.

“And whosoever liveth and believeth in Me shall never die. Believest thou this?

“Everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?

“She saith unto Him,”

“She says to him,”

(And drawing a painful breath, Sonia read distinctly and forcibly as though she were making a public confession of faith.)

(And taking a painful breath, Sonia read clearly and forcefully, as if she were publicly declaring her faith.)

“Yea, Lord: I believe that Thou art the Christ, the Son of God Which should come into the world.”

“Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Christ, the Son of God who was to come into the world.”

She stopped and looked up quickly at him, but controlling herself went on reading. Raskolnikov sat without moving, his elbows on the table and his eyes turned away. She read to the thirty-second verse.

She stopped and quickly looked up at him. But she composed herself and continued reading. Raskolnikov sat motionless, his elbows on the table and his eyes turned away. She read as far as the thirty-second verse.

“Then when Mary was come where Jesus was and saw Him, she fell down at His feet, saying unto Him, Lord if Thou hadst been here, my brother had not died.

“When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet. She said, Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.

“When Jesus therefore saw her weeping, and the Jews also weeping which came with her, He groaned in the spirit and was troubled,

“When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come with her weeping too, he groaned inwardly and was troubled.

“And said, Where have ye laid him? They said unto Him, Lord, come and see.

“And said, Where have you laid him? They said to him, Lord, come and see.

“Jesus wept.

“Then said the Jews, behold how He loved him!

“Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

“And some of them said, could not this Man which opened the eyes of the blind, have caused that even this man should not have died?”

“And some of them said, ‘Couldn't the man who gave sight to the blind have kept this man from dying?’”

Raskolnikov turned and looked at her with emotion. Yes, he had known it! She was trembling in a real physical fever. He had expected it. She was getting near the story of the greatest miracle and a feeling of immense triumph came over her. Her voice rang out like a bell; triumph and joy gave it power. The lines danced before her eyes, but she knew what she was reading by heart. At the last verse “Could not this Man which opened the eyes of the blind...” dropping her voice she passionately reproduced the doubt, the reproach and censure of the blind disbelieving Jews, who in another moment would fall at His feet as though struck by thunder, sobbing and believing.... “And he, he—too, is blinded and unbelieving, he, too, will hear, he, too, will believe, yes, yes! At once, now,” was what she was dreaming, and she was quivering with happy anticipation.

Raskolnikov turned and looked at her with emotion. Yes, he had known it! She was trembling with a real physical fever. He had expected it. She was coming to the story of the greatest miracle, and a feeling of immense triumph swept over her. Her voice rang out like a bell. Triumph and joy gave it power. The lines danced before her eyes, but she knew them by heart. At the last verse, “Could not this Man which opened the eyes of the blind...” she lowered her voice. She passionately expressed the doubt, reproach, and condemnation of the blind, disbelieving Jews. In another moment they would fall at his feet as if struck by thunder, sobbing and believing.... “And he, he too is blind and unbelieving. He, too, will hear. He, too, will believe, yes, yes! At once, now,” she dreamed, trembling with happy anticipation.

“Jesus therefore again groaning in Himself cometh to the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it.

“Jesus, groaning again within himself, came to the grave. It was a cave, with a stone laid across the entrance.

“Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto Him, Lord by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.”

“Jesus said, Take away the stone. Martha, the dead man’s sister, said to him, Lord, by now he smells, because he has been dead for four days.”

She laid emphasis on the word four.

She emphasized the word four.

“Jesus saith unto her, Said I not unto thee that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God?

“Jesus said to her, Didn't I tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?

“Then they took away the stone from the place where the dead was laid. And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, Father, I thank Thee that Thou hast heard Me.

“Then they removed the stone from the place where the dead man had been laid. Jesus looked up and said, Father, I thank you for hearing me.

“And I knew that Thou hearest Me always; but because of the people which stand by I said it, that they may believe that Thou hast sent Me.

“And I knew that you always hear me. But I said it because of the people standing here, so that they may believe you sent me.

“And when He thus had spoken, He cried with a loud voice, Lazarus, come forth.

“And when he had said this, he cried out in a loud voice, Lazarus, come out.

“And he that was dead came forth.”

“And the man who had died came out.”

(She read loudly, cold and trembling with ecstasy, as though she were seeing it before her eyes.)

(She read aloud, cold and trembling with ecstasy, as if she could see it before her eyes.)

“Bound hand and foot with graveclothes; and his face was bound about with a napkin. Jesus saith unto them, Loose him and let him go.

“His hands and feet were bound with burial cloths, and a cloth was wrapped around his face. Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.”

“Then many of the Jews which came to Mary and had seen the things which Jesus did believed on Him.”

“Then many of the Jews who had come to Mary and seen what Jesus did believed in him.”

She could read no more, closed the book and got up from her chair quickly.

She could read no more. She closed the book and quickly got up from her chair.

“That is all about the raising of Lazarus,” she whispered severely and abruptly, and turning away she stood motionless, not daring to raise her eyes to him. She still trembled feverishly. The candle-end was flickering out in the battered candlestick, dimly lighting up in the poverty-stricken room the murderer and the harlot who had so strangely been reading together the eternal book. Five minutes or more passed.

“That is all about the raising of Lazarus,” she whispered sternly and abruptly. She turned away and stood motionless, not daring to look up at him. She was still trembling feverishly. The candle stub flickered in the battered candlestick, nearly burned out. Its dim light fell across the impoverished room, illuminating the murderer and the prostitute. They had been reading the eternal book together, a strange pair. Five minutes or more passed.

“I came to speak of something,” Raskolnikov said aloud, frowning. He got up and went to Sonia. She lifted her eyes to him in silence. His face was particularly stern and there was a sort of savage determination in it.

“I came to talk about something,” Raskolnikov said aloud, frowning. He got up and went to Sonia. She looked up at him in silence. His face was especially stern, and it showed a kind of savage determination.

“I have abandoned my family to-day,” he said, “my mother and sister. I am not going to see them. I’ve broken with them completely.”

“I abandoned my family today,” he said. “My mother and sister. I’m not going to see them. I’ve completely broken ties with them.”

“What for?” asked Sonia amazed. Her recent meeting with his mother and sister had left a great impression which she could not analyse. She heard his news almost with horror.

“What for?” Sonia asked, amazed. Her recent meeting with his mother and sister had deeply affected her, though she could not explain why. She heard his news with something close to horror.

“I have only you now,” he added. “Let us go together.... I’ve come to you, we are both accursed, let us go our way together!”

“I have only you now,” he added. “Let’s go together.... I’ve come to you. We’re both cursed. Let’s go on together!”

His eyes glittered “as though he were mad,” Sonia thought, in her turn.

His eyes glittered “as if he were mad,” Sonia thought in turn.

“Go where?” she asked in alarm and she involuntarily stepped back.

“Go where?” she asked in alarm, stepping back without meaning to.

“How do I know? I only know it’s the same road, I know that and nothing more. It’s the same goal!”

“How do I know? I only know it’s the same road. I know that and nothing more. It’s the same goal!”

She looked at him and understood nothing. She knew only that he was terribly, infinitely unhappy.

“No one of them will understand, if you tell them, but I have understood. I need you, that is why I have come to you.”

“None of them will understand if you tell them, but I understand. I need you. That’s why I came to you.”

“I don’t understand,” whispered Sonia.

“You’ll understand later. Haven’t you done the same? You, too, have transgressed... have had the strength to transgress. You have laid hands on yourself, you have destroyed a life... your own (it’s all the same!). You might have lived in spirit and understanding, but you’ll end in the Hay Market.... But you won’t be able to stand it, and if you remain alone you’ll go out of your mind like me. You are like a mad creature already. So we must go together on the same road! Let us go!”

“You’ll understand later. Haven’t you done the same? You’ve crossed the line too... you’ve had the strength to cross it. You’ve harmed yourself, you’ve destroyed a life... your own (it’s all the same!). You could have lived a life of spirit and understanding, but you’ll end up in the Hay Market.... But you won’t be able to stand it. And if you’re left alone, you’ll lose your mind like me. You’re already like a mad creature. So we must take the same road together! Let’s go!”

“What for? What’s all this for?” said Sonia, strangely and violently agitated by his words.

“What for? What’s all this for?” Sonia said, strangely and violently shaken by his words.

“What for? Because you can’t remain like this, that’s why! You must look things straight in the face at last, and not weep like a child and cry that God won’t allow it. What will happen, if you should really be taken to the hospital to-morrow? She is mad and in consumption, she’ll soon die and the children? Do you mean to tell me Polenka won’t come to grief? Haven’t you seen children here at the street corners sent out by their mothers to beg? I’ve found out where those mothers live and in what surroundings. Children can’t remain children there! At seven the child is vicious and a thief. Yet children, you know, are the image of Christ: ‘theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.’ He bade us honour and love them, they are the humanity of the future....”

“What for? Because you can’t go on like this, that’s why! You must finally face the truth. Stop crying like a child and saying God won’t allow it. What will happen if you really are taken to the hospital tomorrow? She’s mad and has tuberculosis. She’ll soon die, and what about the children? Are you telling me Polenka won’t come to harm? Haven’t you seen children on street corners here, sent out by their mothers to beg? I’ve found out where those mothers live and what their surroundings are like. Children can’t stay children in places like that! By seven, a child is vicious and a thief. Yet children, you know, are the image of Christ: ‘theirs is the kingdom of Heaven.’ He told us to honor and love them. They are the future of humanity....”

“What’s to be done, what’s to be done?” repeated Sonia, weeping hysterically and wringing her hands.

“What should we do? What should we do?” Sonia repeated, crying hysterically and wringing her hands.

“What’s to be done? Break what must be broken, once for all, that’s all, and take the suffering on oneself. What, you don’t understand? You’ll understand later.... Freedom and power, and above all, power! Over all trembling creation and all the ant-heap!... That’s the goal, remember that! That’s my farewell message. Perhaps it’s the last time I shall speak to you. If I don’t come to-morrow, you’ll hear of it all, and then remember these words. And some day later on, in years to come, you’ll understand perhaps what they meant. If I come to-morrow, I’ll tell you who killed Lizaveta.... Good-bye.”

“What should be done? Break what must be broken, once and for all. That’s all. And take the suffering upon yourself. What, you don’t understand? You’ll understand later.... Freedom and power, and above all, power! Power over all trembling creation and the whole anthill!... That’s the goal, remember that! That’s my farewell message. Perhaps this is the last time I’ll speak to you. If I don’t come tomorrow, you’ll hear all about it. Then remember these words. And perhaps someday, years from now, you’ll understand what they meant. If I come tomorrow, I’ll tell you who killed Lizaveta.... Goodbye.”

Sonia started with terror.

Sonia flinched in terror.

“Why, do you know who killed her?” she asked, chilled with horror, looking wildly at him.

“Do you know who killed her?” she asked, chilled with horror as she looked wildly at him.

“I know and will tell... you, only you. I have chosen you out. I’m not coming to you to ask forgiveness, but simply to tell you. I chose you out long ago to hear this, when your father talked of you and when Lizaveta was alive, I thought of it. Good-bye, don’t shake hands. To-morrow!”

“I know and I’ll tell... you, only you. I chose you. I’m not coming to ask your forgiveness, just to tell you. I chose you long ago to hear this. I thought of it when your father spoke of you, while Lizaveta was still alive. Goodbye, don’t shake my hand. Tomorrow!”

He went out. Sonia gazed at him as at a madman. But she herself was like one insane and felt it. Her head was going round.

He went out. Sonia stared at him as if he were mad. But she felt mad herself, and she knew it. Her head was spinning.

“Good heavens, how does he know who killed Lizaveta? What did those words mean? It’s awful!” But at the same time the idea did not enter her head, not for a moment! “Oh, he must be terribly unhappy!... He has abandoned his mother and sister.... What for? What has happened? And what had he in his mind? What did he say to her? He had kissed her foot and said... said (yes, he had said it clearly) that he could not live without her.... Oh, merciful heavens!”

“Good heavens, how does he know who killed Lizaveta? What did those words mean? It’s awful!” But at the same time, the idea never entered her mind, not even for a moment! “Oh, he must be terribly unhappy!... He has left his mother and sister.... Why? What has happened? What was he thinking? What did he say to her? He had kissed her foot and said... said (yes, he had said it clearly) that he couldn’t live without her.... Oh, merciful heavens!”

Sonia spent the whole night feverish and delirious. She jumped up from time to time, wept and wrung her hands, then sank again into feverish sleep and dreamt of Polenka, Katerina Ivanovna and Lizaveta, of reading the gospel and him... him with pale face, with burning eyes... kissing her feet, weeping.

Sonia spent the whole night feverish and delirious. From time to time, she jumped up, cried, and wrung her hands. Then she fell back into a feverish sleep. She dreamed of Polenka, Katerina Ivanovna, and Lizaveta, of reading the gospel, and of him... him with his pale face and burning eyes... kissing her feet, weeping.

On the other side of the door on the right, which divided Sonia’s room from Madame Resslich’s flat, was a room which had long stood empty. A card was fixed on the gate and a notice stuck in the windows over the canal advertising it to let. Sonia had long been accustomed to the room’s being uninhabited. But all that time Mr. Svidrigaïlov had been standing, listening at the door of the empty room. When Raskolnikov went out he stood still, thought a moment, went on tiptoe to his own room which adjoined the empty one, brought a chair and noiselessly carried it to the door that led to Sonia’s room. The conversation had struck him as interesting and remarkable, and he had greatly enjoyed it—so much so that he brought a chair that he might not in the future, to-morrow, for instance, have to endure the inconvenience of standing a whole hour, but might listen in comfort.

On the other side of the door to the right was a room that had been empty for a long time. The door separated Sonia’s room from Madame Resslich’s flat. A card on the gate and notices in the windows overlooking the canal advertised the room for rent. Sonia had long been used to the room being empty. But all that time Mr. Svidrigaïlov had been standing in the empty room, listening at the door. When Raskolnikov left, he stood still and thought for a moment. Then he went on tiptoe to his own room, which adjoined the empty one. He brought back a chair and carried it silently to the door leading to Sonia’s room. He had found the conversation interesting and remarkable, and he had greatly enjoyed it. He had enjoyed it so much that he brought a chair for the future, perhaps tomorrow. Then he could listen in comfort instead of having to stand for a whole hour.