Chapter 4

“You know perhaps—yes, I told you myself,” began Svidrigaïlov, “that I was in the debtors’ prison here, for an immense sum, and had not any expectation of being able to pay it. There’s no need to go into particulars of how Marfa Petrovna bought me out; do you know to what a point of insanity a woman can sometimes love? She was an honest woman, and very sensible, although completely uneducated. Would you believe that this honest and jealous woman, after many scenes of hysterics and reproaches, condescended to enter into a kind of contract with me which she kept throughout our married life? She was considerably older than I, and besides, she always kept a clove or something in her mouth. There was so much swinishness in my soul and honesty too, of a sort, as to tell her straight out that I couldn’t be absolutely faithful to her. This confession drove her to frenzy, but yet she seems in a way to have liked my brutal frankness. She thought it showed I was unwilling to deceive her if I warned her like this beforehand and for a jealous woman, you know, that’s the first consideration. After many tears an unwritten contract was drawn up between us: first, that I would never leave Marfa Petrovna and would always be her husband; secondly, that I would never absent myself without her permission; thirdly, that I would never set up a permanent mistress; fourthly, in return for this, Marfa Petrovna gave me a free hand with the maidservants, but only with her secret knowledge; fifthly, God forbid my falling in love with a woman of our class; sixthly, in case I—which God forbid—should be visited by a great serious passion I was bound to reveal it to Marfa Petrovna. On this last score, however, Marfa Petrovna was fairly at ease. She was a sensible woman and so she could not help looking upon me as a dissolute profligate incapable of real love. But a sensible woman and a jealous woman are two very different things, and that’s where the trouble came in. But to judge some people impartially we must renounce certain preconceived opinions and our habitual attitude to the ordinary people about us. I have reason to have faith in your judgment rather than in anyone’s. Perhaps you have already heard a great deal that was ridiculous and absurd about Marfa Petrovna. She certainly had some very ridiculous ways, but I tell you frankly that I feel really sorry for the innumerable woes of which I was the cause. Well, and that’s enough, I think, by way of a decorous oraison funèbre for the most tender wife of a most tender husband. When we quarrelled, I usually held my tongue and did not irritate her and that gentlemanly conduct rarely failed to attain its object, it influenced her, it pleased her, indeed. There were times when she was positively proud of me. But your sister she couldn’t put up with, anyway. And however she came to risk taking such a beautiful creature into her house as a governess. My explanation is that Marfa Petrovna was an ardent and impressionable woman and simply fell in love herself—literally fell in love—with your sister. Well, little wonder—look at Avdotya Romanovna! I saw the danger at the first glance and what do you think, I resolved not to look at her even. But Avdotya Romanovna herself made the first step, would you believe it? Would you believe it too that Marfa Petrovna was positively angry with me at first for my persistent silence about your sister, for my careless reception of her continual adoring praises of Avdotya Romanovna. I don’t know what it was she wanted! Well, of course, Marfa Petrovna told Avdotya Romanovna every detail about me. She had the unfortunate habit of telling literally everyone all our family secrets and continually complaining of me; how could she fail to confide in such a delightful new friend? I expect they talked of nothing else but me and no doubt Avdotya Romanovna heard all those dark mysterious rumours that were current about me.... I don’t mind betting that you too have heard something of the sort already?”

“You may know, yes, I told you myself,” Svidrigaïlov began, “that I was in debtors’ prison here. I owed an enormous sum and had no hope of paying it. There’s no need to explain how Marfa Petrovna bought my freedom. Do you know how madly a woman can sometimes love? She was an honest woman and very sensible, though completely uneducated. Would you believe that this honest and jealous woman made a kind of contract with me? She agreed to it after many scenes of hysterics and reproaches, and she kept it throughout our marriage. She was much older than I was, and she always had a clove or something in her mouth. I had enough swinishness in my soul, and honesty too, of a sort, to tell her the truth. I said I couldn’t be completely faithful to her. This confession drove her into a frenzy, yet she seemed to like my brutal honesty in a way. She thought that warning her beforehand showed I didn’t want to deceive her. And for a jealous woman, you know, that’s the first consideration. After many tears, we made an unwritten contract. First, I would never leave Marfa Petrovna and would always remain her husband. Second, I would never go away without her permission. Third, I would never take a permanent mistress. Fourth, in return, Marfa Petrovna gave me a free hand with the maidservants, but only with her secret knowledge. Fifth, God forbid that I should fall in love with a woman of our class. Sixth, if I were overcome by a great, serious passion, which God forbid, I had to tell Marfa Petrovna. On this last point, however, Marfa Petrovna was fairly unconcerned. She was sensible, so she couldn’t help seeing me as a debauched and immoral man, incapable of real love. But a sensible woman and a jealous woman are two very different things. That’s where the trouble began. To judge some people fairly, we must give up certain preconceived ideas. We must also give up our usual attitude toward the ordinary people around us. I have reason to trust your judgment more than anyone else’s. Perhaps you’ve already heard a great deal of ridiculous nonsense about Marfa Petrovna. She certainly had some very ridiculous habits. But I tell you frankly, I’m truly sorry for the countless troubles I caused her. Well, I think that’s enough for a proper oraison funèbre for the most tender wife of a most tender husband. When we quarreled, I usually kept quiet and didn’t provoke her. This gentlemanly behavior rarely failed to achieve its purpose. It had an effect on her, and she was pleased by it. At times she was positively proud of me. But she couldn’t put up with your sister, anyway. And how did she ever come to risk taking such a beautiful creature into her house as a governess? My explanation is that Marfa Petrovna was passionate and impressionable. She simply fell in love herself, literally fell in love, with your sister. Well, little wonder. Look at Avdotya Romanovna! I saw the danger at first glance, and what do you think? I resolved not even to look at her. But Avdotya Romanovna herself made the first move, would you believe it? Would you also believe that Marfa Petrovna was actually angry with me at first? I kept silent about your sister and showed no interest in her constant, adoring praise of Avdotya Romanovna. I don’t know what she wanted! Well, of course, Marfa Petrovna told Avdotya Romanovna every detail about me. She had the unfortunate habit of telling literally everyone all our family secrets. She was always complaining about me too. How could she not confide in such a delightful new friend? I expect they talked about nothing but me. And no doubt Avdotya Romanovna heard all those dark, mysterious rumors going around about me.... I’d bet you’ve heard something of the sort yourself already?”

“I have. Luzhin charged you with having caused the death of a child. Is that true?”

“I have. Luzhin accused you of causing a child’s death. Is that true?”

“Don’t refer to those vulgar tales, I beg,” said Svidrigaïlov with disgust and annoyance. “If you insist on wanting to know about all that idiocy, I will tell you one day, but now...”

“Please don’t bring up those vulgar stories,” said Svidrigaïlov with disgust and annoyance. “If you insist on knowing about all that nonsense, I’ll tell you one day, but not now...”

“I was told too about some footman of yours in the country whom you treated badly.”

“I was also told about a footman of yours in the country whom you treated badly.”

“I beg you to drop the subject,” Svidrigaïlov interrupted again with obvious impatience.

“Please drop the subject,” Svidrigaïlov interrupted again, clearly impatient.

“Was that the footman who came to you after death to fill your pipe?... you told me about it yourself.” Raskolnikov felt more and more irritated.

“Was that the footman who came to you after he died to fill your pipe?... You told me about him yourself.” Raskolnikov grew more and more irritated.

Svidrigaïlov looked at him attentively and Raskolnikov fancied he caught a flash of spiteful mockery in that look. But Svidrigaïlov restrained himself and answered very civilly:

Svidrigaïlov looked at him closely, and Raskolnikov thought he saw a flash of spiteful mockery in his eyes. But Svidrigaïlov held back and answered very politely:

“Yes, it was. I see that you, too, are extremely interested and shall feel it my duty to satisfy your curiosity at the first opportunity. Upon my soul! I see that I really might pass for a romantic figure with some people. Judge how grateful I must be to Marfa Petrovna for having repeated to Avdotya Romanovna such mysterious and interesting gossip about me. I dare not guess what impression it made on her, but in any case it worked in my interests. With all Avdotya Romanovna’s natural aversion and in spite of my invariably gloomy and repellent aspect—she did at last feel pity for me, pity for a lost soul. And if once a girl’s heart is moved to pity, it’s more dangerous than anything. She is bound to want to ‘save him,’ to bring him to his senses, and lift him up and draw him to nobler aims, and restore him to new life and usefulness—well, we all know how far such dreams can go. I saw at once that the bird was flying into the cage of herself. And I too made ready. I think you are frowning, Rodion Romanovitch? There’s no need. As you know, it all ended in smoke. (Hang it all, what a lot I am drinking!) Do you know, I always, from the very beginning, regretted that it wasn’t your sister’s fate to be born in the second or third century A.D., as the daughter of a reigning prince or some governor or pro-consul in Asia Minor. She would undoubtedly have been one of those who would endure martyrdom and would have smiled when they branded her bosom with hot pincers. And she would have gone to it of herself. And in the fourth or fifth century she would have walked away into the Egyptian desert and would have stayed there thirty years living on roots and ecstasies and visions. She is simply thirsting to face some torture for someone, and if she can’t get her torture, she’ll throw herself out of window. I’ve heard something of a Mr. Razumihin—he’s said to be a sensible fellow; his surname suggests it, indeed. He’s probably a divinity student. Well, he’d better look after your sister! I believe I understand her, and I am proud of it. But at the beginning of an acquaintance, as you know, one is apt to be more heedless and stupid. One doesn’t see clearly. Hang it all, why is she so handsome? It’s not my fault. In fact, it began on my side with a most irresistible physical desire. Avdotya Romanovna is awfully chaste, incredibly and phenomenally so. Take note, I tell you this about your sister as a fact. She is almost morbidly chaste, in spite of her broad intelligence, and it will stand in her way. There happened to be a girl in the house then, Parasha, a black-eyed wench, whom I had never seen before—she had just come from another village—very pretty, but incredibly stupid: she burst into tears, wailed so that she could be heard all over the place and caused scandal. One day after dinner Avdotya Romanovna followed me into an avenue in the garden and with flashing eyes insisted on my leaving poor Parasha alone. It was almost our first conversation by ourselves. I, of course, was only too pleased to obey her wishes, tried to appear disconcerted, embarrassed, in fact played my part not badly. Then came interviews, mysterious conversations, exhortations, entreaties, supplications, even tears—would you believe it, even tears? Think what the passion for propaganda will bring some girls to! I, of course, threw it all on my destiny, posed as hungering and thirsting for light, and finally resorted to the most powerful weapon in the subjection of the female heart, a weapon which never fails one. It’s the well-known resource—flattery. Nothing in the world is harder than speaking the truth and nothing easier than flattery. If there’s the hundredth part of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to trouble. But if all, to the last note, is false in flattery, it is just as agreeable, and is heard not without satisfaction. It may be a coarse satisfaction, but still a satisfaction. And however coarse the flattery, at least half will be sure to seem true. That’s so for all stages of development and classes of society. A vestal virgin might be seduced by flattery. I can never remember without laughter how I once seduced a lady who was devoted to her husband, her children, and her principles. What fun it was and how little trouble! And the lady really had principles—of her own, anyway. All my tactics lay in simply being utterly annihilated and prostrate before her purity. I flattered her shamelessly, and as soon as I succeeded in getting a pressure of the hand, even a glance from her, I would reproach myself for having snatched it by force, and would declare that she had resisted, so that I could never have gained anything but for my being so unprincipled. I maintained that she was so innocent that she could not foresee my treachery, and yielded to me unconsciously, unawares, and so on. In fact, I triumphed, while my lady remained firmly convinced that she was innocent, chaste, and faithful to all her duties and obligations and had succumbed quite by accident. And how angry she was with me when I explained to her at last that it was my sincere conviction that she was just as eager as I. Poor Marfa Petrovna was awfully weak on the side of flattery, and if I had only cared to, I might have had all her property settled on me during her lifetime. (I am drinking an awful lot of wine now and talking too much.) I hope you won’t be angry if I mention now that I was beginning to produce the same effect on Avdotya Romanovna. But I was stupid and impatient and spoiled it all. Avdotya Romanovna had several times—and one time in particular—been greatly displeased by the expression of my eyes, would you believe it? There was sometimes a light in them which frightened her and grew stronger and stronger and more unguarded till it was hateful to her. No need to go into detail, but we parted. There I acted stupidly again. I fell to jeering in the coarsest way at all such propaganda and efforts to convert me; Parasha came on to the scene again, and not she alone; in fact there was a tremendous to-do. Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, if you could only see how your sister’s eyes can flash sometimes! Never mind my being drunk at this moment and having had a whole glass of wine. I am speaking the truth. I assure you that this glance has haunted my dreams; the very rustle of her dress was more than I could stand at last. I really began to think that I might become epileptic. I could never have believed that I could be moved to such a frenzy. It was essential, indeed, to be reconciled, but by then it was impossible. And imagine what I did then! To what a pitch of stupidity a man can be brought by frenzy! Never undertake anything in a frenzy, Rodion Romanovitch. I reflected that Avdotya Romanovna was after all a beggar (ach, excuse me, that’s not the word... but does it matter if it expresses the meaning?), that she lived by her work, that she had her mother and you to keep (ach, hang it, you are frowning again), and I resolved to offer her all my money—thirty thousand roubles I could have realised then—if she would run away with me here, to Petersburg. Of course I should have vowed eternal love, rapture, and so on. Do you know, I was so wild about her at that time that if she had told me to poison Marfa Petrovna or to cut her throat and to marry herself, it would have been done at once! But it ended in the catastrophe of which you know already. You can fancy how frantic I was when I heard that Marfa Petrovna had got hold of that scoundrelly attorney, Luzhin, and had almost made a match between them—which would really have been just the same thing as I was proposing. Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? I notice that you’ve begun to be very attentive... you interesting young man....”

“Yes, it was. I can see you’re extremely interested too, and I’ll feel duty-bound to satisfy your curiosity at the first opportunity. Honestly! I see that some people really might take me for a romantic figure. Imagine how grateful I must be to Marfa Petrovna for repeating such mysterious and interesting gossip about me to Avdotya Romanovna. I wouldn’t dare guess what impression it made on her, but in any case, it worked in my favor. “Despite Avdotya Romanovna’s natural dislike of me and my consistently gloomy and repellent appearance, she eventually pitied me. She pitied a lost soul. And once a girl’s heart is moved to pity, nothing is more dangerous. She’s bound to want to ‘save him,’ bring him to his senses, and raise him to nobler goals. She’ll want to restore him to a new and useful life. Well, we all know how far such dreams can go. I saw at once that the bird was flying into the cage of her own accord. And I prepared myself too. “I think you’re frowning, Rodion Romanovitch? There’s no need. As you know, it all came to nothing. (Damn it, I’m drinking a lot!) You know, from the very beginning, I always regretted that your sister wasn’t born in the second or third century A.D. She should have been the daughter of a ruling prince, or some governor or proconsul in Asia Minor. She would undoubtedly have been one of those women who endured martyrdom. She would have smiled as they branded her breast with hot pincers. And she would have gone to her punishment willingly. “In the fourth or fifth century, she would have walked into the Egyptian desert. She would have stayed there for thirty years, living on roots, ecstasies, and visions. She’s simply thirsting to suffer some torture for someone. And if she can’t have her torture, she’ll throw herself out of a window. “I’ve heard something about a Mr. Razumihin. They say he’s a sensible fellow. His surname suggests it, in fact. He’s probably a divinity student. Well, he’d better look after your sister! I believe I understand her, and I’m proud of it. But at the beginning of an acquaintance, as you know, a person tends to be more careless and foolish. You don’t see clearly. “Damn it, why is she so beautiful? It’s not my fault. In fact, on my side, it began with an irresistible physical desire. Avdotya Romanovna is terribly chaste, incredibly and remarkably so. Take note, I’m telling you this about your sister as a fact. Despite her broad intelligence, she’s almost morbidly chaste, and it will stand in her way. “There was a girl in the house then named Parasha, a black-eyed wench I’d never seen before. She’d just come from another village. She was very pretty, but incredibly stupid. She burst into tears and wailed loudly enough to be heard all over the place, causing a scandal. One day after dinner, Avdotya Romanovna followed me into a garden path. Her eyes flashed as she insisted that I leave poor Parasha alone. “It was almost our first conversation alone. Of course, I was only too pleased to do as she wished. I tried to seem unsettled and embarrassed. In fact, I played my part rather well. Then came meetings, secret conversations, appeals, pleas, and even tears. Would you believe it, even tears? Just think what the passion for converting people can bring some girls to! “Of course, I blamed everything on my fate. I pretended to hunger and thirst for enlightenment. Finally, I resorted to the most powerful weapon for conquering a woman’s heart, a weapon that never fails. It’s the familiar trick of flattery. Nothing in the world is harder than telling the truth, and nothing is easier than flattery. If there’s even a hundredth part of a false note in the truth, it causes discord, and discord causes trouble. But flattery can be false to the very last note and still be pleasing. It’s heard with some satisfaction. The satisfaction may be crude, but it’s still satisfaction. And however crude the flattery, at least half of it is sure to seem true. That’s true at every level of development and in every class of society. Even a vestal virgin could be seduced by flattery. “I can never remember without laughing how I once seduced a lady devoted to her husband, her children, and her principles. What fun it was, and how little trouble! And the lady really did have principles, her own principles, anyway. My whole strategy was simply to act utterly crushed and humbled before her purity. I flattered her shamelessly. Whenever I managed to get a squeeze of the hand, or even a glance, I would reproach myself. I’d say I had forced it from her. I’d declare that she had resisted, and that I’d succeeded only because I was so unprincipled. I insisted that she was too innocent to foresee my treachery. I said she had given in unconsciously, without realizing it, and so on. “In fact, I won, while my lady remained firmly convinced that she was innocent and chaste. She believed she had remained faithful to all her duties and obligations and had given in quite by accident. And how angry she was when I finally told her what I sincerely believed: that she had been just as eager as I was. “Poor Marfa Petrovna was terribly susceptible to flattery. If I’d cared to, I might have had all her property signed over to me during her lifetime. (I’m drinking an awful lot of wine now and talking too much.) I hope you won’t be angry if I say that I was beginning to have the same effect on Avdotya Romanovna. But I was stupid and impatient, and I spoiled everything. “Several times, and once in particular, Avdotya Romanovna was deeply troubled by the look in my eyes. Would you believe it? Sometimes there was a light in them that frightened her. It grew stronger and less guarded, until she came to hate it. There’s no need to go into detail, but we parted. Then I acted stupidly again. I began mocking all such attempts to convert me, in the crudest way. Parasha appeared on the scene again, and she wasn’t the only one. In fact, there was a tremendous uproar. “Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, if only you could see how your sister’s eyes can flash sometimes! Never mind that I’m drunk at the moment and have had a whole glass of wine. I’m telling the truth. I assure you, that look has haunted my dreams. Finally, even the rustle of her dress was more than I could bear. I really began to think I might develop epilepsy. I could never have believed I could be driven to such a frenzy. “I had to make peace with her, but by then it was impossible. And imagine what I did next! How stupid a frenzy can make a man! Never undertake anything in a frenzy, Rodion Romanovitch. I reflected that Avdotya Romanovna was, after all, a beggar. (Ach, excuse me, that’s not the word... but does it matter, if it gets the meaning across?) She lived by her work, and she had her mother and you to support. (Ach, damn it, you’re frowning again.) So I decided to offer her all my money if she would run away with me here, to Petersburg. I could have raised thirty thousand roubles then. Of course, I would have sworn eternal love and rapture and so on. “Do you know, I was so wild about her at the time that she could have told me to poison Marfa Petrovna, or cut her throat, and marry her instead. I would have done it at once! But it ended in the catastrophe you already know about. You can imagine how frantic I was when I heard that Marfa Petrovna had found that scoundrel of an attorney, Luzhin. She had almost arranged a match between him and Avdotya Romanovna. That would really have been just the same as what I was proposing. Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? I notice that you’ve started paying very close attention... you interesting young man....”

Svidrigaïlov struck the table with his fist impatiently. He was flushed. Raskolnikov saw clearly that the glass or glass and a half of champagne that he had sipped almost unconsciously was affecting him—and he resolved to take advantage of the opportunity. He felt very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov.

Svidrigaïlov impatiently struck the table with his fist. His face was flushed. Raskolnikov could see that the glass or glass and a half of champagne was affecting Svidrigaïlov. He had sipped it almost without noticing. Raskolnikov decided to take advantage of the opportunity. He was very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov.

“Well, after what you have said, I am fully convinced that you have come to Petersburg with designs on my sister,” he said directly to Svidrigaïlov, in order to irritate him further.

“Well, after what you’ve said, I’m fully convinced you came to Petersburg with plans for my sister,” he said directly to Svidrigaïlov. He wanted to irritate him further.

“Oh, nonsense,” said Svidrigaïlov, seeming to rouse himself. “Why, I told you... besides your sister can’t endure me.”

“Oh, nonsense,” said Svidrigaïlov, seeming to come to himself. “Why, I told you... Besides, your sister can’t stand me.”

“Yes, I am certain that she can’t, but that’s not the point.”

“Yes, I’m sure she can’t, but that’s not the point.”

“Are you so sure that she can’t?” Svidrigaïlov screwed up his eyes and smiled mockingly. “You are right, she doesn’t love me, but you can never be sure of what has passed between husband and wife or lover and mistress. There’s always a little corner which remains a secret to the world and is only known to those two. Will you answer for it that Avdotya Romanovna regarded me with aversion?”

“Are you so sure she can’t?” Svidrigaïlov narrowed his eyes and smiled mockingly. “You’re right, she doesn’t love me. But you can never be sure what has passed between a husband and wife or between lovers. There’s always a little corner that remains secret from the world, known only to the two of them. Can you say for certain that Avdotya Romanovna felt disgust for me?”

“From some words you’ve dropped, I notice that you still have designs—and of course evil ones—on Dounia and mean to carry them out promptly.”

“From things you’ve said, I can see you still have plans for Dounia. And of course they’re evil plans. You intend to carry them out soon.”

“What, have I dropped words like that?” Svidrigaïlov asked in naïve dismay, taking not the slightest notice of the epithet bestowed on his designs.

“What, have I said things like that?” Svidrigaïlov asked in innocent dismay. He paid no attention at all to the word used to describe his plans.

“Why, you are dropping them even now. Why are you so frightened? What are you so afraid of now?”

“You're dropping them right now. Why are you so frightened? What are you so afraid of now?”

“Me—afraid? Afraid of you? You have rather to be afraid of me, cher ami. But what nonsense.... I’ve drunk too much though, I see that. I was almost saying too much again. Damn the wine! Hi! there, water!”

“Me, afraid? Afraid of you? You should be afraid of me, cher ami. But what nonsense.... I see I’ve drunk too much, though. I almost said too much again. Damn the wine! Hey, water!”

He snatched up the champagne bottle and flung it without ceremony out of the window. Philip brought the water.

He grabbed the champagne bottle and tossed it out the window without a second thought. Philip brought the water.

“That’s all nonsense!” said Svidrigaïlov, wetting a towel and putting it to his head. “But I can answer you in one word and annihilate all your suspicions. Do you know that I am going to get married?”

“That’s all nonsense!” said Svidrigaïlov. He wet a towel and put it on his head. “But I can answer you in one word and wipe out all your suspicions. Do you know I’m going to get married?”

“You told me so before.”

“You told me that before.”

“Did I? I’ve forgotten. But I couldn’t have told you so for certain for I had not even seen my betrothed; I only meant to. But now I really have a betrothed and it’s a settled thing, and if it weren’t that I have business that can’t be put off, I would have taken you to see them at once, for I should like to ask your advice. Ach, hang it, only ten minutes left! See, look at the watch. But I must tell you, for it’s an interesting story, my marriage, in its own way. Where are you off to? Going again?”

“Did I? I’ve forgotten. But I couldn’t have told you that for certain. I hadn’t even seen the person I meant to marry yet. I only planned to. But now I really am engaged, and it’s settled. If I didn’t have urgent business, I’d take you to see them right away. I’d like to ask your advice. Oh, damn it, only ten minutes left! Here, look at the watch. But I must tell you about my marriage. It’s an interesting story, in its own way. Where are you going? Leaving already?”

“No, I’m not going away now.”

“No, I’m not going away now.”

“Not at all? We shall see. I’ll take you there, I’ll show you my betrothed, only not now. For you’ll soon have to be off. You have to go to the right and I to the left. Do you know that Madame Resslich, the woman I am lodging with now, eh? I know what you’re thinking, that she’s the woman whose girl they say drowned herself in the winter. Come, are you listening? She arranged it all for me. You’re bored, she said, you want something to fill up your time. For, you know, I am a gloomy, depressed person. Do you think I’m light-hearted? No, I’m gloomy. I do no harm, but sit in a corner without speaking a word for three days at a time. And that Resslich is a sly hussy, I tell you. I know what she has got in her mind; she thinks I shall get sick of it, abandon my wife and depart, and she’ll get hold of her and make a profit out of her—in our class, of course, or higher. She told me the father was a broken-down retired official, who had been sitting in a chair for the last three years with his legs paralysed. The mamma, she said, was a sensible woman. There is a son serving in the provinces, but he doesn’t help; there is a daughter, who is married, but she doesn’t visit them. And they’ve two little nephews on their hands, as though their own children were not enough, and they’ve taken from school their youngest daughter, a girl who’ll be sixteen in another month, so that then she can be married. She was for me. We went there. How funny it was! I present myself—a landowner, a widower, of a well-known name, with connections, with a fortune. What if I am fifty and she is not sixteen? Who thinks of that? But it’s fascinating, isn’t it? It is fascinating, ha-ha! You should have seen how I talked to the papa and mamma. It was worth paying to have seen me at that moment. She comes in, curtseys, you can fancy, still in a short frock—an unopened bud! Flushing like a sunset—she had been told, no doubt. I don’t know how you feel about female faces, but to my mind these sixteen years, these childish eyes, shyness and tears of bashfulness are better than beauty; and she is a perfect little picture, too. Fair hair in little curls, like a lamb’s, full little rosy lips, tiny feet, a charmer!... Well, we made friends. I told them I was in a hurry owing to domestic circumstances, and the next day, that is the day before yesterday, we were betrothed. When I go now I take her on my knee at once and keep her there.... Well, she flushes like a sunset and I kiss her every minute. Her mamma of course impresses on her that this is her husband and that this must be so. It’s simply delicious! The present betrothed condition is perhaps better than marriage. Here you have what is called la nature et la vérité, ha-ha! I’ve talked to her twice, she is far from a fool. Sometimes she steals a look at me that positively scorches me. Her face is like Raphael’s Madonna. You know, the Sistine Madonna’s face has something fantastic in it, the face of mournful religious ecstasy. Haven’t you noticed it? Well, she’s something in that line. The day after we’d been betrothed, I bought her presents to the value of fifteen hundred roubles—a set of diamonds and another of pearls and a silver dressing-case as large as this, with all sorts of things in it, so that even my Madonna’s face glowed. I sat her on my knee, yesterday, and I suppose rather too unceremoniously—she flushed crimson and the tears started, but she didn’t want to show it. We were left alone, she suddenly flung herself on my neck (for the first time of her own accord), put her little arms round me, kissed me, and vowed that she would be an obedient, faithful, and good wife, would make me happy, would devote all her life, every minute of her life, would sacrifice everything, everything, and that all she asks in return is my respect, and that she wants ‘nothing, nothing more from me, no presents.’ You’ll admit that to hear such a confession, alone, from an angel of sixteen in a muslin frock, with little curls, with a flush of maiden shyness in her cheeks and tears of enthusiasm in her eyes is rather fascinating! Isn’t it fascinating? It’s worth paying for, isn’t it? Well... listen, we’ll go to see my betrothed, only not just now!”

“Not at all? We’ll see. I’ll take you there and show you my fiancée, just not now. You’ll have to leave soon. You’re going right, and I’m going left. Do you know Madame Resslich, the woman I’m staying with now, eh? I know what you’re thinking. She’s the woman whose girl they say drowned herself last winter. Come on, are you listening? She arranged everything for me. You’re bored, she said. You need something to occupy your time. You see, I’m a gloomy, depressed person. Do you think I’m cheerful? No, I’m gloomy. I do no harm, but I sit in a corner without saying a word for three days at a time. And that Resslich is a sly hussy, I tell you. I know what she has in mind. She thinks I’ll get tired of it, abandon my wife and leave. Then she’ll take her and make a profit out of her, in our class, of course, or higher. She told me the father was a broken-down retired official. His legs were paralyzed, and he had been sitting in a chair for the past three years. The mother, she said, was a sensible woman. They have a son working in the provinces, but he doesn’t help. They have a married daughter, but she doesn’t visit them. They also have two little nephews to look after, as if their own children weren’t enough. And they’ve taken their youngest daughter out of school. She’ll be sixteen in another month, so she can get married then. She was meant for me. We went there. How funny it was! I present myself as a landowner and a widower, with a well-known name, connections and a fortune. So what if I’m fifty and she isn’t sixteen? Who thinks about that? But it’s fascinating, isn’t it? It is fascinating, ha-ha! You should have seen me talking to the father and mother. I was worth paying to see at that moment. She comes in and curtsies. Just imagine, she’s still wearing a short dress, an unopened bud! Blushing like a sunset. She had been told, no doubt. I don’t know how you feel about women’s faces. But to me, those sixteen years, those childlike eyes, shyness and tears of embarrassment are better than beauty. And she’s a perfect little picture too. Fair hair in little curls, like a lamb’s, full little rosy lips, tiny feet, a charmer!... Well, we became friends. I told them I was in a hurry because of circumstances at home. The next day, that is, the day before yesterday, we were engaged. Now, when I visit, I sit her on my knee at once and keep her there.... Well, she blushes like a sunset, and I kiss her every minute. Her mother, of course, impresses on her that I’m her husband and that this is how it must be. It’s simply delicious! Being engaged is perhaps better than being married. Here you have what they call la nature et la vérité, ha-ha! I’ve spoken with her twice. She’s far from a fool. Sometimes she steals a look at me that positively scorches me. Her face is like Raphael’s Madonna. You know, there’s something fantastic about the face of the Sistine Madonna. It’s the face of mournful religious ecstasy. Haven’t you noticed it? Well, she’s something like that. The day after we got engaged, I bought her presents worth fifteen hundred roubles. There was a set of diamonds, another of pearls, and a silver dressing case as big as this. The case had all sorts of things in it. Even my Madonna’s face glowed. Yesterday, I sat her on my knee, rather too roughly, I suppose. She blushed crimson and tears came to her eyes, but she didn’t want to show them. We were left alone, and suddenly she threw herself around my neck. It was the first time she’d done it of her own accord. She put her little arms around me, kissed me, and vowed to be an obedient, faithful, good wife. She would make me happy and devote her whole life, every minute of it, to me. She would sacrifice everything, everything. All she asked in return was my respect. She wanted ‘nothing, nothing more from me, no presents.’ You’ll admit it’s rather fascinating to hear such a confession when you’re alone with her! An angel of sixteen in a muslin dress, with little curls, a shy blush on her cheeks, and tears of enthusiasm in her eyes! Isn’t it fascinating? It’s worth paying for, isn’t it? Well... listen, we’ll go see my fiancée, just not right now!”

“The fact is this monstrous difference in age and development excites your sensuality! Will you really make such a marriage?”

“The fact is, this monstrous difference in age and development turns you on! Would you really enter into such a marriage?”

“Why, of course. Everyone thinks of himself, and he lives most gaily who knows best how to deceive himself. Ha-ha! But why are you so keen about virtue? Have mercy on me, my good friend. I am a sinful man. Ha-ha-ha!”

“Why, of course. Everyone thinks of himself, and the person who can best deceive himself lives the most happily. Ha-ha! But why are you so concerned about virtue? Have mercy on me, my good friend. I am a sinful man. Ha-ha-ha!”

“But you have provided for the children of Katerina Ivanovna. Though... though you had your own reasons.... I understand it all now.”

“But you have provided for Katerina Ivanovna’s children. Though... though you had your own reasons.... I understand it all now.”

“I am always fond of children, very fond of them,” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “I can tell you one curious instance of it. The first day I came here I visited various haunts, after seven years I simply rushed at them. You probably notice that I am not in a hurry to renew acquaintance with my old friends. I shall do without them as long as I can. Do you know, when I was with Marfa Petrovna in the country, I was haunted by the thought of these places where anyone who knows his way about can find a great deal. Yes, upon my soul! The peasants have vodka, the educated young people, shut out from activity, waste themselves in impossible dreams and visions and are crippled by theories; Jews have sprung up and are amassing money, and all the rest give themselves up to debauchery. From the first hour the town reeked of its familiar odours. I chanced to be in a frightful den—I like my dens dirty—it was a dance, so called, and there was a cancan such as I never saw in my day. Yes, there you have progress. All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely dressed, dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one vis-à-vis. Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall. You can’t fancy what a cancan that was! The girl was ashamed, blushed, at last felt insulted, and began to cry. Her partner seized her and began whirling her round and performing before her; everyone laughed and—I like your public, even the cancan public—they laughed and shouted, ‘Serve her right—serve her right! Shouldn’t bring children!’ Well, it’s not my business whether that consoling reflection was logical or not. I at once fixed on my plan, sat down by the mother, and began by saying that I too was a stranger and that people here were ill-bred and that they couldn’t distinguish decent folks and treat them with respect, gave her to understand that I had plenty of money, offered to take them home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know them. They were lodging in a miserable little hole and had only just arrived from the country. She told me that she and her daughter could only regard my acquaintance as an honour. I found out that they had nothing of their own and had come to town upon some legal business. I proffered my services and money. I learnt that they had gone to the dancing saloon by mistake, believing that it was a genuine dancing class. I offered to assist in the young girl’s education in French and dancing. My offer was accepted with enthusiasm as an honour—and we are still friendly.... If you like, we’ll go and see them, only not just now.”

“I’ve always been fond of children, very fond of them,” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “I can tell you one curious example. On my first day here, I visited various haunts. After seven years away, I rushed straight to them. You’ve probably noticed that I’m in no hurry to see my old friends again. I’ll do without them as long as I can. When I was in the country with Marfa Petrovna, I couldn’t stop thinking about these places. Anyone who knows their way around can find a great deal in them. Yes, I swear it! The peasants have vodka. Educated young people, shut out from any real activity, waste themselves on impossible dreams and visions. They are crippled by theories. Jews have sprung up and are amassing money, and all the rest give themselves up to debauchery. “From the first hour, the town stank of its familiar smells. I happened to visit a dreadful den. I like my dens dirty. It was a dance, if you can call it that, and there was a cancan unlike any I’d seen in my day. Yes, that’s progress for you. Suddenly I saw a nicely dressed girl of thirteen. She was dancing with one specialist in that line, while another danced vis-à-vis. Her mother was sitting on a chair against the wall. You can’t imagine what a cancan that was! The girl was embarrassed and blushed. At last she felt insulted and began to cry. Her partner grabbed her and started whirling her around and performing in front of her. Everyone laughed. I like your public, even the cancan public. They laughed and shouted, ‘Serve her right, serve her right! She shouldn’t bring children!’ “Well, it’s not my business whether that comforting thought made sense or not. I made my plan at once and sat down beside the mother. I began by saying that I was a stranger too. I said people here were ill-mannered and couldn’t recognize decent people or treat them with respect. I let her know I had plenty of money and offered to take them home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know them. They were staying in a miserable little hole and had only just arrived from the country. She told me that she and her daughter could only consider it an honor to know me. I found out they had nothing of their own and had come to town on legal business. I offered my help and my money. I learned that they had gone to the dance hall by mistake. They thought it was a real dance class. I offered to help with the girl’s education in French and dancing. My offer was accepted enthusiastically as an honor, and we’re still friendly.... If you like, we’ll go and see them, but not just now.”

“Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty anecdotes, depraved vile, sensual man!”

“Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty stories, you depraved, vile, lustful man!”

“Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher? But you know I shall tell you these things on purpose, for the pleasure of hearing your outcries!”

“Schiller, you are a real Schiller! Where will virtue turn up next? But you know I'll tell you these things on purpose, just for the pleasure of hearing you protest!”

“I dare say. I can see I am ridiculous myself,” muttered Raskolnikov angrily.

“I suppose so. I can see how ridiculous I am,” Raskolnikov muttered angrily.

Svidrigaïlov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip, paid his bill, and began getting up.

Svidrigaïlov laughed heartily. Finally, he called Philip, paid his bill, and began to get up.

“I say, but I am drunk, assez causé,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Wow, I’m drunk. Enough talk,” he said. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“I should rather think it must be a pleasure!” cried Raskolnikov, getting up. “No doubt it is a pleasure for a worn-out profligate to describe such adventures with a monstrous project of the same sort in his mind—especially under such circumstances and to such a man as me.... It’s stimulating!”

“I should think it must be a pleasure!” cried Raskolnikov, getting up. “No doubt a worn-out debauchee enjoys describing such adventures while planning something monstrous of the same kind. Especially under these circumstances and to a man like me.... It’s stimulating!”

“Well, if you come to that,” Svidrigaïlov answered, scrutinising Raskolnikov with some surprise, “if you come to that, you are a thorough cynic yourself. You’ve plenty to make you so, anyway. You can understand a great deal... and you can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely regret not having had more talk with you, but I shan’t lose sight of you.... Only wait a bit.”

“Well, if it comes to that,” Svidrigaïlov answered, studying Raskolnikov with some surprise, “you’re a complete cynic yourself. You have plenty of reason to be one, anyway. You can understand a great deal... and you can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely regret not having talked more with you, but I won’t lose sight of you.... Just wait a little.”

Svidrigaïlov walked out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov walked out after him. Svidrigaïlov was not however very drunk, the wine had affected him for a moment, but it was passing off every minute. He was preoccupied with something of importance and was frowning. He was apparently excited and uneasy in anticipation of something. His manner to Raskolnikov had changed during the last few minutes, and he was ruder and more sneering every moment. Raskolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy. He became very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and resolved to follow him.

Svidrigaïlov walked out of the restaurant, and Raskolnikov followed him. Svidrigaïlov was not very drunk, however. The wine had affected him for a moment, but its effect was wearing off by the minute. He was frowning, preoccupied with something important. He seemed excited and uneasy, as though anticipating something. His manner toward Raskolnikov had changed in the last few minutes. He was growing ruder and more mocking by the moment. Raskolnikov noticed all this, and he too felt uneasy. He became very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and decided to follow him.

They came out on to the pavement.

They stepped out onto the sidewalk.

“You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the other way. Only adieu, mon plaisir, may we meet again.”

“You go right, and I'll go left, or the other way around if you like. Anyway, adieu, mon plaisir. May we meet again.”

And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market.

And he turned right and walked toward the Hay Market.