Chapter 5

Raskolnikov was already entering the room. He came in looking as though he had the utmost difficulty not to burst out laughing again. Behind him Razumihin strode in gawky and awkward, shamefaced and red as a peony, with an utterly crestfallen and ferocious expression. His face and whole figure really were ridiculous at that moment and amply justified Raskolnikov’s laughter. Raskolnikov, not waiting for an introduction, bowed to Porfiry Petrovitch, who stood in the middle of the room looking inquiringly at them. He held out his hand and shook hands, still apparently making desperate efforts to subdue his mirth and utter a few words to introduce himself. But he had no sooner succeeded in assuming a serious air and muttering something when he suddenly glanced again as though accidentally at Razumihin, and could no longer control himself: his stifled laughter broke out the more irresistibly the more he tried to restrain it. The extraordinary ferocity with which Razumihin received this “spontaneous” mirth gave the whole scene the appearance of most genuine fun and naturalness. Razumihin strengthened this impression as though on purpose.

Raskolnikov was already entering the room. He looked as though he was having the greatest difficulty keeping from laughing again. Razumihin strode in behind him, ungainly and awkward, ashamed and red as a peony. His expression was utterly dejected and fierce. His face and his whole appearance really were ridiculous at that moment, more than enough to justify Raskolnikov’s laughter. Without waiting for an introduction, Raskolnikov bowed to Porfiry Petrovitch, who stood in the middle of the room, looking at them questioningly. Raskolnikov held out his hand and shook hands with him. He still seemed to be struggling desperately to hold back his laughter and say a few words to introduce himself. But as soon as he managed to look serious and mutter something, he glanced at Razumihin again, seemingly by accident. He could no longer control himself. The harder he tried to hold back his laughter, the more irresistibly it burst out. The extraordinary fierceness with which Razumihin reacted to this “spontaneous” laughter made the whole scene look genuinely funny and natural. Razumihin reinforced this impression as though he were doing it on purpose.

“Fool! You fiend,” he roared, waving his arm which at once struck a little round table with an empty tea-glass on it. Everything was sent flying and crashing.

“Fool! You monster,” he roared, waving his arm. It immediately struck a small round table with an empty tea glass on it. Everything went flying and crashing.

“But why break chairs, gentlemen? You know it’s a loss to the Crown,” Porfiry Petrovitch quoted gaily.

“But why break chairs, gentlemen? You know the Crown has to pay for them,” Porfiry Petrovitch quoted cheerfully.

Raskolnikov was still laughing, with his hand in Porfiry Petrovitch’s, but anxious not to overdo it, awaited the right moment to put a natural end to it. Razumihin, completely put to confusion by upsetting the table and smashing the glass, gazed gloomily at the fragments, cursed and turned sharply to the window where he stood looking out with his back to the company with a fiercely scowling countenance, seeing nothing. Porfiry Petrovitch laughed and was ready to go on laughing, but obviously looked for explanations. Zametov had been sitting in the corner, but he rose at the visitors’ entrance and was standing in expectation with a smile on his lips, though he looked with surprise and even it seemed incredulity at the whole scene and at Raskolnikov with a certain embarrassment. Zametov’s unexpected presence struck Raskolnikov unpleasantly.

Raskolnikov was still laughing, his hand in Porfiry Petrovitch’s. He was anxious not to overdo it and waited for a natural moment to stop. Razumihin was completely flustered after knocking over the table and smashing the glass. He stared gloomily at the broken pieces, cursed, and turned sharply to the window. He stood with his back to the others, scowling fiercely as he looked out without seeing anything. Porfiry Petrovitch laughed and seemed ready to keep laughing, but he was clearly waiting for an explanation. Zametov had been sitting in the corner, but he rose when the visitors entered. He stood waiting with a smile on his lips, though he looked surprised and even seemed disbelieving at the whole scene. He also looked at Raskolnikov with some embarrassment. Zametov’s unexpected presence was an unpleasant surprise to Raskolnikov.

“I’ve got to think of that,” he thought. “Excuse me, please,” he began, affecting extreme embarrassment. “Raskolnikov.”

“I have to think about that,” he thought. “Excuse me, please,” he began, pretending to be extremely embarrassed. “Raskolnikov.”

“Not at all, very pleasant to see you... and how pleasantly you’ve come in.... Why, won’t he even say good-morning?” Porfiry Petrovitch nodded at Razumihin.

“Not at all, it’s very nice to see you... and what a pleasant entrance you’ve made.... Why, won’t he even say good morning?” Porfiry Petrovitch nodded at Razumihin.

“Upon my honour I don’t know why he is in such a rage with me. I only told him as we came along that he was like Romeo... and proved it. And that was all, I think!”

“I honestly don’t know why he’s so angry with me. I only told him on the way that he was like Romeo... and proved it. And that was all, I think!”

“Pig!” ejaculated Razumihin, without turning round.

“Pig!” Razumihin exclaimed without turning around.

“There must have been very grave grounds for it, if he is so furious at the word,” Porfiry laughed.

“There must have been serious reasons for it, if the word makes him so furious,” Porfiry laughed.

“Oh, you sharp lawyer!... Damn you all!” snapped Razumihin, and suddenly bursting out laughing himself, he went up to Porfiry with a more cheerful face as though nothing had happened. “That’ll do! We are all fools. To come to business. This is my friend Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov; in the first place he has heard of you and wants to make your acquaintance, and secondly, he has a little matter of business with you. Bah! Zametov, what brought you here? Have you met before? Have you known each other long?”

“Oh, you clever lawyer! Damn you all!” snapped Razumihin. Then he suddenly burst out laughing himself and went up to Porfiry, looking cheerful again, as if nothing had happened. “That’s enough! We’re all fools. Now, to business. This is my friend Rodion Romanovitch Raskolnikov. First, he’s heard of you and wants to meet you. Second, he has a little business to discuss with you. Ah! Zametov, what brought you here? Have you two met before? Have you known each other long?”

“What does this mean?” thought Raskolnikov uneasily.

“What does this mean?” Raskolnikov thought uneasily.

Zametov seemed taken aback, but not very much so.

Zametov seemed a little surprised, but not much.

“Why, it was at your rooms we met yesterday,” he said easily.

“Why, we met at your place yesterday,” he said casually.

“Then I have been spared the trouble. All last week he was begging me to introduce him to you. Porfiry and you have sniffed each other out without me. Where is your tobacco?”

“Then you’ve saved me the trouble. All last week he was begging me to introduce him to you. You and Porfiry have sniffed each other out without me. Where’s your tobacco?”

Porfiry Petrovitch was wearing a dressing-gown, very clean linen, and trodden-down slippers. He was a man of about five and thirty, short, stout even to corpulence, and clean shaven. He wore his hair cut short and had a large round head, particularly prominent at the back. His soft, round, rather snub-nosed face was of a sickly yellowish colour, but had a vigorous and rather ironical expression. It would have been good-natured except for a look in the eyes, which shone with a watery, mawkish light under almost white, blinking eyelashes. The expression of those eyes was strangely out of keeping with his somewhat womanish figure, and gave it something far more serious than could be guessed at first sight.

Porfiry Petrovitch wore a dressing gown, very clean linen, and slippers crushed down at the heels. He was about thirty-five, short, and so stout he was almost fat. He was clean-shaven, with short hair and a large, round head that stuck out at the back. His soft, round face had a slightly upturned nose and a sickly yellow color. But its expression was lively and rather ironic. It would have looked good-natured except for his eyes. They shone with a watery, sentimental light beneath nearly white, blinking eyelashes. Their expression was strangely at odds with his somewhat womanish figure. It gave him an air far more serious than one might have guessed at first sight.

As soon as Porfiry Petrovitch heard that his visitor had a little matter of business with him, he begged him to sit down on the sofa and sat down himself on the other end, waiting for him to explain his business, with that careful and over-serious attention which is at once oppressive and embarrassing, especially to a stranger, and especially if what you are discussing is in your own opinion of far too little importance for such exceptional solemnity. But in brief and coherent phrases Raskolnikov explained his business clearly and exactly, and was so well satisfied with himself that he even succeeded in taking a good look at Porfiry. Porfiry Petrovitch did not once take his eyes off him. Razumihin, sitting opposite at the same table, listened warmly and impatiently, looking from one to the other every moment with rather excessive interest.

As soon as Porfiry Petrovitch heard that his visitor had a little business with him, he asked him to sit on the sofa. Porfiry sat at the other end and waited for him to explain. He listened with careful, overly serious attention. Such attention is both oppressive and embarrassing, especially to a stranger. It is worse still if you think the matter is far too unimportant for such solemnity. But Raskolnikov explained his business clearly and precisely, in brief, coherent sentences. He was so pleased with himself that he even managed to get a good look at Porfiry. Porfiry Petrovitch never took his eyes off him. Razumihin sat opposite them at the same table. He listened eagerly and impatiently, looking from one to the other every moment with rather excessive interest.

“Fool,” Raskolnikov swore to himself.

“Fool,” Raskolnikov cursed himself.

“You have to give information to the police,” Porfiry replied, with a most businesslike air, “that having learnt of this incident, that is of the murder, you beg to inform the lawyer in charge of the case that such and such things belong to you, and that you desire to redeem them... or... but they will write to you.”

“You have to give the police a statement,” Porfiry replied in a very businesslike manner. “Say that you learned about the incident, the murder. Tell the lawyer in charge of the case that certain things belong to you and that you want to redeem them... or... but they will write to you.”

“That’s just the point, that at the present moment,” Raskolnikov tried his utmost to feign embarrassment, “I am not quite in funds... and even this trifling sum is beyond me... I only wanted, you see, for the present to declare that the things are mine, and that when I have money....”

“That’s just the point. Right now,” Raskolnikov tried his best to sound embarrassed, “I don’t have much money... Even that small amount is more than I can afford... I only wanted to say, for now, that the things are mine, and that when I have money....”

“That’s no matter,” answered Porfiry Petrovitch, receiving his explanation of his pecuniary position coldly, “but you can, if you prefer, write straight to me, to say, that having been informed of the matter, and claiming such and such as your property, you beg...”

“That doesn’t matter,” answered Porfiry Petrovitch, reacting coldly to his explanation of his financial situation. “But if you prefer, you can write directly to me. Say that you’ve been informed of the matter and claim such and such as your property, and that you request...”

“On an ordinary sheet of paper?” Raskolnikov interrupted eagerly, again interested in the financial side of the question.

“On an ordinary sheet of paper?” Raskolnikov interrupted eagerly, interested again in the financial side of the question.

“Oh, the most ordinary,” and suddenly Porfiry Petrovitch looked with obvious irony at him, screwing up his eyes and, as it were, winking at him. But perhaps it was Raskolnikov’s fancy, for it all lasted but a moment. There was certainly something of the sort, Raskolnikov could have sworn he winked at him, goodness knows why.

“Oh, the most ordinary.” Suddenly, Porfiry Petrovitch looked at him with obvious irony, narrowing his eyes as if winking at him. But perhaps Raskolnikov imagined it, because it all happened in a moment. There was certainly something like a wink. Raskolnikov could have sworn Porfiry winked at him, though goodness knows why.

“He knows,” flashed through his mind like lightning.

“He knows,” the thought flashed through his mind like lightning.

“Forgive my troubling you about such trifles,” he went on, a little disconcerted, “the things are only worth five roubles, but I prize them particularly for the sake of those from whom they came to me, and I must confess that I was alarmed when I heard...”

“Sorry to bother you about such small things,” he went on, a little flustered. “They’re only worth five roubles, but they mean a lot to me because of the people who gave them to me. And I must admit I was alarmed when I heard...”

“That’s why you were so much struck when I mentioned to Zossimov that Porfiry was inquiring for everyone who had pledges!” Razumihin put in with obvious intention.

“That’s why you were so surprised when I told Zossimov that Porfiry was asking about everyone who had pawned something!” Razumihin interjected, clearly on purpose.

This was really unbearable. Raskolnikov could not help glancing at him with a flash of vindictive anger in his black eyes, but immediately recollected himself.

This was unbearable. Raskolnikov could not help glancing at him, a flash of vindictive anger in his dark eyes. But he immediately regained his composure.

“You seem to be jeering at me, brother?” he said to him, with a well-feigned irritability. “I dare say I do seem to you absurdly anxious about such trash; but you mustn’t think me selfish or grasping for that, and these two things may be anything but trash in my eyes. I told you just now that the silver watch, though it’s not worth a cent, is the only thing left us of my father’s. You may laugh at me, but my mother is here,” he turned suddenly to Porfiry, “and if she knew,” he turned again hurriedly to Razumihin, carefully making his voice tremble, “that the watch was lost, she would be in despair! You know what women are!”

“Are you making fun of me, brother?” he asked, pretending to be irritated. “I suppose I do seem absurdly worried about such junk. But you mustn’t think I’m selfish or greedy because of that. These two things may be anything but junk to me. I just told you that the silver watch, though it isn’t worth a cent, is all we have left of my father’s. You may laugh at me, but my mother is here.” He suddenly turned to Porfiry. “And if she knew,” he added, turning quickly back to Razumihin and carefully making his voice tremble, “that the watch was lost, she would be in despair! You know what women are like!”

“Not a bit of it! I didn’t mean that at all! Quite the contrary!” shouted Razumihin distressed.

“No, not at all! I didn’t mean that at all! Quite the opposite!” shouted Razumihin, distressed.

“Was it right? Was it natural? Did I overdo it?” Raskolnikov asked himself in a tremor. “Why did I say that about women?”

“Was it right? Was it natural? Did I overdo it?” Raskolnikov asked himself, trembling. “Why did I say that about women?”

“Oh, your mother is with you?” Porfiry Petrovitch inquired.

“Oh, is your mother with you?” Porfiry Petrovitch asked.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“When did she come?”

“When did she come?”

“Last night.”

“Last night.”

Porfiry paused as though reflecting.

Porfiry paused, as if thinking.

“Your things would not in any case be lost,” he went on calmly and coldly. “I have been expecting you here for some time.”

“Your things wouldn't be lost in any case,” he continued calmly and coldly. “I've been expecting you here for some time.”

And as though that was a matter of no importance, he carefully offered the ash-tray to Razumihin, who was ruthlessly scattering cigarette ash over the carpet. Raskolnikov shuddered, but Porfiry did not seem to be looking at him, and was still concerned with Razumihin’s cigarette.

As though it were unimportant, he carefully offered the ashtray to Razumihin, who was scattering cigarette ash all over the carpet. Raskolnikov shuddered, but Porfiry did not seem to be looking at him. He was still focused on Razumihin’s cigarette.

“What? Expecting him? Why, did you know that he had pledges there?” cried Razumihin.

“What? Expecting him? Did you know he had pawned things there?” cried Razumihin.

Porfiry Petrovitch addressed himself to Raskolnikov.

Porfiry Petrovitch spoke to Raskolnikov.

“Your things, the ring and the watch, were wrapped up together, and on the paper your name was legibly written in pencil, together with the date on which you left them with her...”

“Your things, the ring and the watch, were wrapped together. Your name was written clearly in pencil on the paper, along with the date you left them with her...”

“How observant you are!” Raskolnikov smiled awkwardly, doing his very utmost to look him straight in the face, but he failed, and suddenly added:

“How observant you are!” Raskolnikov smiled awkwardly. He tried his hardest to look him straight in the face, but failed. Then he suddenly added:

“I say that because I suppose there were a great many pledges... so that it must be difficult to remember them all.... But you remember them all so clearly, and... and...”

“I say that because I suppose there were a lot of pawned items... so it must be hard to remember them all.... But you remember them all so clearly, and... and...”

“Stupid! Feeble!” he thought. “Why did I add that?”

“Stupid! Weak!” he thought. “Why did I add that?”

“But we know all who had pledges, and you are the only one who hasn’t come forward,” Porfiry answered with hardly perceptible irony.

“But we know everyone who had left something with her as security, and you’re the only one who hasn’t come forward,” Porfiry replied with hardly noticeable irony.

“I haven’t been quite well.”

“I haven’t been feeling quite well.”

“I heard that too. I heard, indeed, that you were in great distress about something. You look pale still.”

“I heard that too. In fact, I heard you were very upset about something. You still look pale.”

“I am not pale at all.... No, I am quite well,” Raskolnikov snapped out rudely and angrily, completely changing his tone. His anger was mounting, he could not repress it. “And in my anger I shall betray myself,” flashed through his mind again. “Why are they torturing me?”

“I’m not pale at all.... No, I’m quite well,” Raskolnikov snapped rudely and angrily, his tone changing completely. His anger was rising, and he couldn’t control it. “In my anger, I’ll give myself away,” flashed through his mind again. “Why are they torturing me?”

“Not quite well!” Razumihin caught him up. “What next! He was unconscious and delirious till yesterday. Would you believe, Porfiry, as soon as our backs were turned, he dressed, though he could hardly stand, and gave us the slip and went off on the spree somewhere till midnight, delirious all the time! Would you believe it! Extraordinary!”

“Not quite well!” Razumihin interrupted. “What are you talking about! He was unconscious and delirious until yesterday. Would you believe it, Porfiry? As soon as we turned our backs, he got dressed, though he could hardly stand. He slipped away and went out on a spree somewhere until midnight, delirious the whole time! Would you believe it! Extraordinary!”

“Really delirious? You don’t say so!” Porfiry shook his head in a womanish way.

“Really delirious? You don’t say!” Porfiry shook his head in a womanish way.

“Nonsense! Don’t you believe it! But you don’t believe it anyway,” Raskolnikov let slip in his anger. But Porfiry Petrovitch did not seem to catch those strange words.

“Nonsense! Don’t believe it! But you don’t believe it anyway,” Raskolnikov blurted out in anger. But Porfiry Petrovitch did not seem to notice those strange words.

“But how could you have gone out if you hadn’t been delirious?” Razumihin got hot suddenly. “What did you go out for? What was the object of it? And why on the sly? Were you in your senses when you did it? Now that all danger is over I can speak plainly.”

“But how could you have gone out if you weren’t delirious?” Razumihin suddenly grew angry. “Why did you go out? What was the point? And why did you sneak out? Were you in your right mind when you did it? Now that all the danger is over, I can speak plainly.”

“I was awfully sick of them yesterday.” Raskolnikov addressed Porfiry suddenly with a smile of insolent defiance, “I ran away from them to take lodgings where they wouldn’t find me, and took a lot of money with me. Mr. Zametov there saw it. I say, Mr. Zametov, was I sensible or delirious yesterday; settle our dispute.”

“I was so sick of them yesterday.” Raskolnikov suddenly turned to Porfiry with a defiantly insolent smile. “I ran away from them and rented a room where they wouldn’t find me. I took a lot of money with me. Mr. Zametov here saw the money. Tell me, Mr. Zametov, was I in my right mind or delirious yesterday? Settle our dispute.”

He could have strangled Zametov at that moment, so hateful were his expression and his silence to him.

He could have strangled Zametov at that moment because he hated his expression and his silence so much.

“In my opinion you talked sensibly and even artfully, but you were extremely irritable,” Zametov pronounced dryly.

“In my opinion, you spoke sensibly and even skillfully, but you were extremely irritable,” Zametov said dryly.

“And Nikodim Fomitch was telling me to-day,” put in Porfiry Petrovitch, “that he met you very late last night in the lodging of a man who had been run over.”

“And Nikodim Fomitch told me today,” Porfiry Petrovitch added, “that he met you very late last night at the home of a man who had been run over.”

“And there,” said Razumihin, “weren’t you mad then? You gave your last penny to the widow for the funeral. If you wanted to help, give fifteen or twenty even, but keep three roubles for yourself at least, but he flung away all the twenty-five at once!”

“And then,” said Razumihin, “weren’t you mad? You gave your last penny to the widow for the funeral. If you wanted to help, you could have given fifteen or even twenty roubles. But you should have kept at least three roubles for yourself. Instead, he threw away all twenty-five at once!”

“Maybe I found a treasure somewhere and you know nothing of it? So that’s why I was liberal yesterday.... Mr. Zametov knows I’ve found a treasure! Excuse us, please, for disturbing you for half an hour with such trivialities,” he said, turning to Porfiry Petrovitch, with trembling lips. “We are boring you, aren’t we?”

“Maybe I found a treasure somewhere and you know nothing about it? That’s why I was so generous yesterday.... Mr. Zametov knows I’ve found a treasure! Please excuse us for bothering you for half an hour with such trivial things,” he said, turning to Porfiry Petrovitch, his lips trembling. “We’re boring you, aren’t we?”

“Oh no, quite the contrary, quite the contrary! If only you knew how you interest me! It’s interesting to look on and listen... and I am really glad you have come forward at last.”

“Oh no, quite the opposite, quite the opposite! If only you knew how much you interest me! It’s interesting to watch and listen... and I’m really glad you’ve finally come forward.”

“But you might give us some tea! My throat’s dry,” cried Razumihin.

“But you could give us some tea! My throat is dry,” cried Razumihin.

“Capital idea! Perhaps we will all keep you company. Wouldn’t you like... something more essential before tea?”

“Great idea! Perhaps we’ll all keep you company. Wouldn’t you like... something more substantial before tea?”

“Get along with you!”

“Get out of here!”

Porfiry Petrovitch went out to order tea.

Porfiry Petrovitch went out to order tea.

Raskolnikov’s thoughts were in a whirl. He was in terrible exasperation.

Raskolnikov’s thoughts were spinning. He was terribly frustrated.

“The worst of it is they don’t disguise it; they don’t care to stand on ceremony! And how if you didn’t know me at all, did you come to talk to Nikodim Fomitch about me? So they don’t care to hide that they are tracking me like a pack of dogs. They simply spit in my face.” He was shaking with rage. “Come, strike me openly, don’t play with me like a cat with a mouse. It’s hardly civil, Porfiry Petrovitch, but perhaps I won’t allow it! I shall get up and throw the whole truth in your ugly faces, and you’ll see how I despise you.” He could hardly breathe. “And what if it’s only my fancy? What if I am mistaken, and through inexperience I get angry and don’t keep up my nasty part? Perhaps it’s all unintentional. All their phrases are the usual ones, but there is something about them.... It all might be said, but there is something. Why did he say bluntly, ‘With her’? Why did Zametov add that I spoke artfully? Why do they speak in that tone? Yes, the tone.... Razumihin is sitting here, why does he see nothing? That innocent blockhead never does see anything! Feverish again! Did Porfiry wink at me just now? Of course it’s nonsense! What could he wink for? Are they trying to upset my nerves or are they teasing me? Either it’s all fancy or they know! Even Zametov is rude.... Is Zametov rude? Zametov has changed his mind. I foresaw he would change his mind! He is at home here, while it’s my first visit. Porfiry does not consider him a visitor; sits with his back to him. They’re as thick as thieves, no doubt, over me! Not a doubt they were talking about me before we came. Do they know about the flat? If only they’d make haste! When I said that I ran away to take a flat he let it pass.... I put that in cleverly about a flat, it may be of use afterwards.... Delirious, indeed... ha-ha-ha! He knows all about last night! He didn’t know of my mother’s arrival! The hag had written the date on in pencil! You are wrong, you won’t catch me! There are no facts... it’s all supposition! You produce facts! The flat even isn’t a fact but delirium. I know what to say to them.... Do they know about the flat? I won’t go without finding out. What did I come for? But my being angry now, maybe is a fact! Fool, how irritable I am! Perhaps that’s right; to play the invalid.... He is feeling me. He will try to catch me. Why did I come?”

“The worst part is that they don’t even hide it. They don’t bother with politeness! And if you didn’t know me at all, how did you come to talk to Nikodim Fomitch about me? So they don’t care to hide that they’re tracking me like a pack of dogs. They’re simply spitting in my face.” He was shaking with rage. “Come on, attack me openly. Don’t play with me like a cat with a mouse. It’s hardly polite, Porfiry Petrovitch, but perhaps I won’t put up with it! I’ll get up and throw the whole truth in your ugly faces. Then you’ll see how I despise you.” He could hardly breathe. “What if it’s only my imagination? What if I’m mistaken? What if, because I’m inexperienced, I lose my temper and stop playing my nasty part? Perhaps it’s all unintentional. Everything they say is ordinary enough, but there’s something about it.... They could say all those things, but there’s something. Why did he say so bluntly, ‘With her’? Why did Zametov add that I spoke cunningly? Why do they speak in that tone? Yes, the tone.... Razumihin is sitting here. Why doesn’t he see anything? That innocent idiot never sees anything! Feverish again! Did Porfiry just wink at me? Of course that’s nonsense! Why would he wink? Are they trying to make me nervous, or are they teasing me? Either it’s all in my imagination or they know! Even Zametov is rude.... Is Zametov rude? Zametov has changed his mind. I knew he would change his mind! “He’s at home here, while this is my first visit. Porfiry doesn’t treat him as a visitor. He sits with his back to him. They’re as thick as thieves, no doubt, when it comes to me! No doubt they were talking about me before we came. Do they know about the flat? If only they’d hurry up! When I said I ran away to rent a flat, he let it pass.... I was clever to bring up the flat. It may be useful later.... Delirious, indeed... ha-ha-ha! He knows all about last night! He didn’t know my mother had arrived! The old hag had written the date on it in pencil! You’re wrong. You won’t catch me! There are no facts... it’s all guesswork! Show me the facts! Even the flat isn’t a fact, it’s delirium. I know what to say to them.... Do they know about the flat? I won’t leave without finding out. Why did I come? But my anger now may be a fact! Fool, how irritable I am! Perhaps that’s right, to play the invalid.... He’s sounding me out. He’ll try to catch me. Why did I come?”

All this flashed like lightning through his mind.

All this flashed through his mind like lightning.

Porfiry Petrovitch returned quickly. He became suddenly more jovial.

Porfiry Petrovitch returned quickly. He suddenly became more cheerful.

“Your party yesterday, brother, has left my head rather.... And I am out of sorts altogether,” he began in quite a different tone, laughing to Razumihin.

“Your party yesterday, brother, left my head rather.... And I feel out of sorts all over,” he began in a completely different tone, laughing as he spoke to Razumihin.

“Was it interesting? I left you yesterday at the most interesting point. Who got the best of it?”

“Was it interesting? I left you yesterday at the most interesting point. Who won?”

“Oh, no one, of course. They got on to everlasting questions, floated off into space.”

“Oh, no one, of course. They started talking about eternal questions and drifted off into space.”

“Only fancy, Rodya, what we got on to yesterday. Whether there is such a thing as crime. I told you that we talked our heads off.”

“Just imagine, Rodya, what we ended up discussing yesterday. Whether crime even exists. I told you we talked our heads off.”

“What is there strange? It’s an everyday social question,” Raskolnikov answered casually.

“What’s strange about it? It’s an everyday social issue,” Raskolnikov replied casually.

“The question wasn’t put quite like that,” observed Porfiry.

“That’s not quite how the question was asked,” Porfiry said.

“Not quite, that’s true,” Razumihin agreed at once, getting warm and hurried as usual. “Listen, Rodion, and tell us your opinion, I want to hear it. I was fighting tooth and nail with them and wanted you to help me. I told them you were coming.... It began with the socialist doctrine. You know their doctrine; crime is a protest against the abnormality of the social organisation and nothing more, and nothing more; no other causes admitted!...”

“Not quite, that’s true,” Razumihin agreed at once, growing heated and speaking quickly, as usual. “Listen, Rodion, and tell us what you think. I want to hear your opinion. I was arguing with them tooth and nail and wanted your help. I told them you were coming.... It began with the socialist doctrine. You know their doctrine: crime is a protest against the flaws in the way society is organized. It’s nothing more, nothing more. They won’t accept any other causes!...”

“You are wrong there,” cried Porfiry Petrovitch; he was noticeably animated and kept laughing as he looked at Razumihin, which made him more excited than ever.

“You’re wrong about that,” cried Porfiry Petrovitch. He was visibly excited and kept laughing as he looked at Razumihin, which made him even more excited.

“Nothing is admitted,” Razumihin interrupted with heat.

“Nothing is being admitted,” Razumihin interrupted heatedly.

“I am not wrong. I’ll show you their pamphlets. Everything with them is ‘the influence of environment,’ and nothing else. Their favourite phrase! From which it follows that, if society is normally organised, all crime will cease at once, since there will be nothing to protest against and all men will become righteous in one instant. Human nature is not taken into account, it is excluded, it’s not supposed to exist! They don’t recognise that humanity, developing by a historical living process, will become at last a normal society, but they believe that a social system that has come out of some mathematical brain is going to organise all humanity at once and make it just and sinless in an instant, quicker than any living process! That’s why they instinctively dislike history, ‘nothing but ugliness and stupidity in it,’ and they explain it all as stupidity! That’s why they so dislike the living process of life; they don’t want a living soul! The living soul demands life, the soul won’t obey the rules of mechanics, the soul is an object of suspicion, the soul is retrograde! But what they want though it smells of death and can be made of India-rubber, at least is not alive, has no will, is servile and won’t revolt! And it comes in the end to their reducing everything to the building of walls and the planning of rooms and passages in a phalanstery! The phalanstery is ready, indeed, but your human nature is not ready for the phalanstery—it wants life, it hasn’t completed its vital process, it’s too soon for the graveyard! You can’t skip over nature by logic. Logic presupposes three possibilities, but there are millions! Cut away a million, and reduce it all to the question of comfort! That’s the easiest solution of the problem! It’s seductively clear and you mustn’t think about it. That’s the great thing, you mustn’t think! The whole secret of life in two pages of print!”

“I’m not wrong. I’ll show you their pamphlets. For them, everything is ‘the influence of environment,’ and nothing else. That’s their favorite phrase! So it follows that, if society is organized properly, all crime will stop at once. There will be nothing to protest against, and everyone will become righteous in an instant. They don’t take human nature into account. They leave it out. They assume it doesn’t exist! They don’t recognize that humanity will eventually become a normal society through a living historical process. Instead, they believe a social system dreamed up by some mathematical mind will organize all humanity at once. It will make everyone just and sinless in an instant, faster than any living process! That’s why they instinctively dislike history. They see ‘nothing but ugliness and stupidity in it,’ and explain it all as stupidity! That’s why they hate the living process of life. They don’t want a living soul! A living soul demands life. It won’t obey the rules of mechanics. They view the soul with suspicion. The soul is backward! What they want may smell of death and be made of rubber. But at least it isn’t alive. It has no will, it’s obedient, and it won’t rebel! In the end, they reduce everything to building walls and planning rooms and passages in a phalanstery! The phalanstery is ready, all right, but human nature isn’t ready for it. Human nature wants life. It hasn’t completed its living process. It’s too soon for the graveyard! You can’t use logic to skip over nature. Logic assumes three possibilities, but there are millions! Get rid of a million and reduce everything to a question of comfort! That’s the easiest solution to the problem! It’s seductively clear, and you mustn’t think about it. That’s the great thing, you mustn’t think! The whole secret of life in two printed pages!”

“Now he is off, beating the drum! Catch hold of him, do!” laughed Porfiry. “Can you imagine,” he turned to Raskolnikov, “six people holding forth like that last night, in one room, with punch as a preliminary! No, brother, you are wrong, environment accounts for a great deal in crime; I can assure you of that.”

“Now he’s off, beating the drum! Somebody stop him!” Porfiry laughed. He turned to Raskolnikov. “Can you imagine six people talking like that in one room last night, after starting with punch? No, brother, you’re wrong. Environment has a great deal to do with crime. I can assure you of that.”

“Oh, I know it does, but just tell me: a man of forty violates a child of ten; was it environment drove him to it?”

“Oh, I know it does, but just tell me: a forty-year-old man sexually abuses a ten-year-old child. Did his environment drive him to do it?”

“Well, strictly speaking, it did,” Porfiry observed with noteworthy gravity; “a crime of that nature may be very well ascribed to the influence of environment.”

“Well, strictly speaking, it did,” Porfiry said with striking seriousness. “A crime like that may well be blamed on the influence of a person’s environment.”

Razumihin was almost in a frenzy. “Oh, if you like,” he roared, “I’ll prove to you that your white eyelashes may very well be ascribed to the Church of Ivan the Great’s being two hundred and fifty feet high, and I will prove it clearly, exactly, progressively, and even with a Liberal tendency! I undertake to! Will you bet on it?”

Razumihin was almost frantic. “Oh, if you like,” he roared, “I’ll prove that your white eyelashes may be explained by the Church of Ivan the Great being two hundred and fifty feet high. I’ll prove it clearly, precisely, step by step, and even with a Liberal slant! I promise I will! Will you bet on it?”

“Done! Let’s hear, please, how he will prove it!”

“Done! Let’s hear how he’ll prove it!”

“He is always humbugging, confound him,” cried Razumihin, jumping up and gesticulating. “What’s the use of talking to you? He does all that on purpose; you don’t know him, Rodion! He took their side yesterday, simply to make fools of them. And the things he said yesterday! And they were delighted! He can keep it up for a fortnight together. Last year he persuaded us that he was going into a monastery: he stuck to it for two months. Not long ago he took it into his head to declare he was going to get married, that he had everything ready for the wedding. He ordered new clothes indeed. We all began to congratulate him. There was no bride, nothing, all pure fantasy!”

“He’s always fooling people, damn him,” cried Razumihin, jumping up and waving his arms. “What’s the point of talking to you? He does it all on purpose. You don’t know him, Rodion! He took their side yesterday just to make fools of them. And the things he said yesterday! And they were delighted! He can keep it up for two weeks straight. Last year he convinced us he was going into a monastery. He kept that up for two months. Not long ago he decided to announce that he was getting married. He said he had everything ready for the wedding. He even ordered new clothes. We all started congratulating him. There was no bride, nothing. It was all made up!”

“Ah, you are wrong! I got the clothes before. It was the new clothes in fact that made me think of taking you in.”

“Ah, you’re wrong! I got the clothes earlier. In fact, the new clothes made me think of deceiving you.”

“Are you such a good dissembler?” Raskolnikov asked carelessly.

“Are you that good at hiding the truth?” Raskolnikov asked casually.

“You wouldn’t have supposed it, eh? Wait a bit, I shall take you in, too. Ha-ha-ha! No, I’ll tell you the truth. All these questions about crime, environment, children, recall to my mind an article of yours which interested me at the time. ‘On Crime’... or something of the sort, I forget the title, I read it with pleasure two months ago in the Periodical Review.”

“You wouldn’t have guessed, would you? Just wait, I’ll fool you too. Ha-ha-ha! No, I’ll tell you the truth. All these questions about crime, surroundings, and children remind me of an article you wrote. It interested me at the time. ‘On Crime’... or something like that. I forget the title. I enjoyed reading it two months ago in the Periodical Review.”

“My article? In the Periodical Review?” Raskolnikov asked in astonishment. “I certainly did write an article upon a book six months ago when I left the university, but I sent it to the Weekly Review.”

“My article? In the Periodical Review?” Raskolnikov asked in surprise. “I did write an article about a book six months ago, when I left the university. But I sent it to the Weekly Review.”

“But it came out in the Periodical.”

“But it was published in the Periodical.”

“And the Weekly Review ceased to exist, so that’s why it wasn’t printed at the time.”

“And the Weekly Review shut down, so it wasn’t printed at the time.”

“That’s true; but when it ceased to exist, the Weekly Review was amalgamated with the Periodical, and so your article appeared two months ago in the latter. Didn’t you know?”

“That’s true, but the Weekly Review merged with the Periodical when it shut down. So your article appeared in the Periodical two months ago. Didn’t you know?”

Raskolnikov had not known.

Raskolnikov had not known.

“Why, you might get some money out of them for the article! What a strange person you are! You lead such a solitary life that you know nothing of matters that concern you directly. It’s a fact, I assure you.”

“You might even get some money from them for the article! What a strange person you are! You live such a solitary life that you know nothing about things that directly concern you. It’s true, I assure you.”

“Bravo, Rodya! I knew nothing about it either!” cried Razumihin. “I’ll run to-day to the reading-room and ask for the number. Two months ago? What was the date? It doesn’t matter though, I will find it. Think of not telling us!”

“Bravo, Rodya! I didn’t know about it either!” cried Razumihin. “I’ll go to the reading room today and ask for the issue. Two months ago? What was the date? It doesn’t matter, though. I’ll find it. I can’t believe you didn’t tell us!”

“How did you find out that the article was mine? It’s only signed with an initial.”

“How did you know I wrote the article? It’s only signed with an initial.”

“I only learnt it by chance, the other day. Through the editor; I know him.... I was very much interested.”

“I only found out about it by chance the other day. I heard it from the editor. I know him.... I was very interested.”

“I analysed, if I remember, the psychology of a criminal before and after the crime.”

“If I remember correctly, I examined a criminal’s psychology before and after the crime.”

“Yes, and you maintained that the perpetration of a crime is always accompanied by illness. Very, very original, but... it was not that part of your article that interested me so much, but an idea at the end of the article which I regret to say you merely suggested without working it out clearly. There is, if you recollect, a suggestion that there are certain persons who can... that is, not precisely are able to, but have a perfect right to commit breaches of morality and crimes, and that the law is not for them.”

“Yes, and you argued that committing a crime is always accompanied by illness. Very, very original, but... that was not the part of your article that interested me most. It was an idea at the end. I’m sorry to say you only hinted at it, without explaining it clearly. If you remember, you suggested that certain people can... that is, not exactly can, but have every right to break moral rules and commit crimes, and that the law does not apply to them.”

Raskolnikov smiled at the exaggerated and intentional distortion of his idea.

Raskolnikov smiled at the deliberate exaggeration and distortion of his idea.

“What? What do you mean? A right to crime? But not because of the influence of environment?” Razumihin inquired with some alarm even.

“What? What do you mean? A right to commit a crime? But not because of the influence of one’s environment?” Razumihin asked, sounding somewhat alarmed.

“No, not exactly because of it,” answered Porfiry. “In his article all men are divided into ‘ordinary’ and ‘extraordinary.’ Ordinary men have to live in submission, have no right to transgress the law, because, don’t you see, they are ordinary. But extraordinary men have a right to commit any crime and to transgress the law in any way, just because they are extraordinary. That was your idea, if I am not mistaken?”

“No, not exactly because of it,” Porfiry replied. “In his article, all men are divided into ‘ordinary’ and ‘extraordinary.’ Ordinary men have to submit and have no right to break the law because, you see, they are ordinary. But extraordinary men have the right to commit any crime and break the law in any way, just because they are extraordinary. That was your idea, if I’m not mistaken?”

“What do you mean? That can’t be right?” Razumihin muttered in bewilderment.

“What do you mean? That can’t be right?” Razumihin muttered, confused.

Raskolnikov smiled again. He saw the point at once, and knew where they wanted to drive him. He decided to take up the challenge.

Raskolnikov smiled again. He immediately understood what they were getting at and where they wanted to lead him. He decided to take up the challenge.

“That wasn’t quite my contention,” he began simply and modestly. “Yet I admit that you have stated it almost correctly; perhaps, if you like, perfectly so.” (It almost gave him pleasure to admit this.) “The only difference is that I don’t contend that extraordinary people are always bound to commit breaches of morals, as you call it. In fact, I doubt whether such an argument could be published. I simply hinted that an ‘extraordinary’ man has the right... that is not an official right, but an inner right to decide in his own conscience to overstep... certain obstacles, and only in case it is essential for the practical fulfilment of his idea (sometimes, perhaps, of benefit to the whole of humanity). You say that my article isn’t definite; I am ready to make it as clear as I can. Perhaps I am right in thinking you want me to; very well. I maintain that if the discoveries of Kepler and Newton could not have been made known except by sacrificing the lives of one, a dozen, a hundred, or more men, Newton would have had the right, would indeed have been in duty-bound... to eliminate the dozen or the hundred men for the sake of making his discoveries known to the whole of humanity. But it does not follow from that that Newton had a right to murder people right and left and to steal every day in the market. Then, I remember, I maintain in my article that all... well, legislators and leaders of men, such as Lycurgus, Solon, Mahomet, Napoleon, and so on, were all without exception criminals, from the very fact that, making a new law, they transgressed the ancient one, handed down from their ancestors and held sacred by the people, and they did not stop short at bloodshed either, if that bloodshed—often of innocent persons fighting bravely in defence of ancient law—were of use to their cause. It’s remarkable, in fact, that the majority, indeed, of these benefactors and leaders of humanity were guilty of terrible carnage. In short, I maintain that all great men or even men a little out of the common, that is to say capable of giving some new word, must from their very nature be criminals—more or less, of course. Otherwise it’s hard for them to get out of the common rut; and to remain in the common rut is what they can’t submit to, from their very nature again, and to my mind they ought not, indeed, to submit to it. You see that there is nothing particularly new in all that. The same thing has been printed and read a thousand times before. As for my division of people into ordinary and extraordinary, I acknowledge that it’s somewhat arbitrary, but I don’t insist upon exact numbers. I only believe in my leading idea that men are in general divided by a law of nature into two categories, inferior (ordinary), that is, so to say, material that serves only to reproduce its kind, and men who have the gift or the talent to utter a new word. There are, of course, innumerable sub-divisions, but the distinguishing features of both categories are fairly well marked. The first category, generally speaking, are men conservative in temperament and law-abiding; they live under control and love to be controlled. To my thinking it is their duty to be controlled, because that’s their vocation, and there is nothing humiliating in it for them. The second category all transgress the law; they are destroyers or disposed to destruction according to their capacities. The crimes of these men are of course relative and varied; for the most part they seek in very varied ways the destruction of the present for the sake of the better. But if such a one is forced for the sake of his idea to step over a corpse or wade through blood, he can, I maintain, find within himself, in his conscience, a sanction for wading through blood—that depends on the idea and its dimensions, note that. It’s only in that sense I speak of their right to crime in my article (you remember it began with the legal question). There’s no need for much anxiety, however; the masses will scarcely ever admit this right, they punish them or hang them (more or less), and in doing so fulfil quite justly their conservative vocation. But the same masses set these criminals on a pedestal in the next generation and worship them (more or less). The first category is always the man of the present, the second the man of the future. The first preserve the world and people it, the second move the world and lead it to its goal. Each class has an equal right to exist. In fact, all have equal rights with me—and vive la guerre éternelle—till the New Jerusalem, of course!”

“That wasn’t quite what I argued,” he began simply and modestly. “But I admit you’ve stated it almost correctly. Perhaps, if you like, perfectly so.” (He almost enjoyed admitting this.) “The only difference is that I don’t argue that extraordinary people must always break moral rules, as you call it. In fact, I doubt such an argument could be published. I simply suggested that an ‘extraordinary’ man has the right... not an official right, but an inner right. His conscience may allow him to overstep... certain obstacles. He may do so only when it is essential to put his idea into practice. That idea may sometimes, perhaps, benefit all humanity. “You say my article isn’t clear. I’m ready to explain it as clearly as I can. Perhaps I’m right in thinking you want me to. Very well. Suppose Kepler’s and Newton’s discoveries could not have been made known without sacrificing a dozen, a hundred, or more lives. I maintain that Newton would have had the right, and indeed the duty... to eliminate those people. He would have had this right for the sake of making his discoveries known to all humanity. But that doesn’t mean Newton had the right to murder people left and right or steal from the market every day. “Then, if I remember correctly, I argue in my article that all... well, lawmakers and leaders of men were criminals. I mean men such as Lycurgus, Solon, Mahomet, Napoleon, and so on. They were all criminals, without exception, simply because they made new laws. In doing so, they broke the old laws handed down by their ancestors and held sacred by the people. Nor did they shrink from bloodshed if it served their cause. Often, those killed were innocent people bravely defending the old law. In fact, it’s remarkable that most of these benefactors and leaders of humanity were guilty of terrible slaughter. “In short, I maintain that all great men, or even men a little out of the ordinary, must be criminals. I mean men capable of offering some new word. They must be criminals by their very nature, more or less, of course. Otherwise, it’s hard for them to get out of the usual rut. And again, because of their nature, they can’t accept staying in it. In my view, they shouldn’t accept it, either. You see, there’s nothing particularly new in any of this. The same thing has been printed and read a thousand times before. “As for my division of people into ordinary and extraordinary, I admit it’s somewhat arbitrary. But I don’t insist on exact numbers. I only believe in my main idea. It is that people are in general divided by a law of nature into two categories. The first consists of inferior people, the ordinary ones. They are, so to speak, material that serves only to reproduce its kind. The second consists of people with the gift or talent to utter a new word. Of course, there are countless subdivisions. But the features that distinguish the two categories are fairly clear. “Generally speaking, people in the first category are conservative by temperament and law-abiding. They live under control and love being controlled. In my view, it’s their duty to be controlled because that is their calling. There’s nothing humiliating about it for them. Everyone in the second category breaks the law. They are destroyers or inclined to destroy, depending on their abilities. Their crimes are, of course, relative and varied. For the most part, they seek in many different ways to destroy the present for the sake of something better. “But suppose such a man must step over a corpse or wade through blood for the sake of his idea. I maintain that he can find permission within himself, in his own conscience, to wade through blood. Note that this depends on the idea and its scope. That is the only sense in which I speak of their right to commit crimes in my article. You remember, it began with a legal question. “There’s no need to worry much, however. The masses will hardly ever recognize this right. They punish these men or hang them, more or less. In doing so, they quite rightly fulfill their conservative calling. But in the next generation, the same masses put these criminals on a pedestal and worship them, more or less. The first category is always made up of people of the present, the second of people of the future. The first preserve the world and populate it. The second move the world forward and lead it toward its goal. Each class has an equal right to exist. In fact, as far as I’m concerned, all have equal rights, and vive la guerre éternelle, until the New Jerusalem, of course!”

“Then you believe in the New Jerusalem, do you?”

“So you believe in the New Jerusalem, do you?”

“I do,” Raskolnikov answered firmly; as he said these words and during the whole preceding tirade he kept his eyes on one spot on the carpet.

“I do,” Raskolnikov answered firmly. As he spoke, he kept his eyes fixed on one spot on the carpet. He had been staring at it throughout the preceding tirade.

“And... and do you believe in God? Excuse my curiosity.”

“And... and do you believe in God? Sorry for asking.”

“I do,” repeated Raskolnikov, raising his eyes to Porfiry.

“I do,” Raskolnikov repeated, looking up at Porfiry.

“And... do you believe in Lazarus’ rising from the dead?”

“And... do you believe Lazarus rose from the dead?”

“I... I do. Why do you ask all this?”

“I... I do. Why are you asking all this?”

“You believe it literally?”

“Do you believe it literally?”

“Literally.”

“Literally.”

“You don’t say so.... I asked from curiosity. Excuse me. But let us go back to the question; they are not always executed. Some, on the contrary...”

“You don’t say... I was just curious. Sorry. But let’s get back to the question. They aren’t always executed. Some, on the contrary...”

“Triumph in their lifetime? Oh, yes, some attain their ends in this life, and then...”

“Success in their lifetime? Oh, yes, some achieve their goals in this life, and then...”

“They begin executing other people?”

“They start executing other people?”

“If it’s necessary; indeed, for the most part they do. Your remark is very witty.”

“If necessary. In fact, most of them do. Your remark is very witty.”

“Thank you. But tell me this: how do you distinguish those extraordinary people from the ordinary ones? Are there signs at their birth? I feel there ought to be more exactitude, more external definition. Excuse the natural anxiety of a practical law-abiding citizen, but couldn’t they adopt a special uniform, for instance, couldn’t they wear something, be branded in some way? For you know if confusion arises and a member of one category imagines that he belongs to the other, begins to ‘eliminate obstacles’ as you so happily expressed it, then...”

“Thank you. But tell me this: how do you distinguish extraordinary people from ordinary ones? Are there signs at birth? I feel there should be a more precise way to identify them by their appearance. Excuse the natural concern of a practical, law-abiding citizen. But couldn’t they wear a special uniform, for instance? Couldn’t they wear something or be marked in some way? You see, there could be confusion. If someone from one category imagines they belong to the other and starts ‘eliminating obstacles,’ as you so nicely put it, then...”

“Oh, that very often happens! That remark is wittier than the other.”

“Oh, that happens very often! That remark is funnier than the other one.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“No reason to; but take note that the mistake can only arise in the first category, that is among the ordinary people (as I perhaps unfortunately called them). In spite of their predisposition to obedience very many of them, through a playfulness of nature, sometimes vouchsafed even to the cow, like to imagine themselves advanced people, ‘destroyers,’ and to push themselves into the ‘new movement,’ and this quite sincerely. Meanwhile the really new people are very often unobserved by them, or even despised as reactionaries of grovelling tendencies. But I don’t think there is any considerable danger here, and you really need not be uneasy for they never go very far. Of course, they might have a thrashing sometimes for letting their fancy run away with them and to teach them their place, but no more; in fact, even this isn’t necessary as they castigate themselves, for they are very conscientious: some perform this service for one another and others chastise themselves with their own hands.... They will impose various public acts of penitence upon themselves with a beautiful and edifying effect; in fact you’ve nothing to be uneasy about.... It’s a law of nature.”

“No reason to. But note that this mistake can only occur in the first category, among ordinary people. Perhaps that was an unfortunate name for them. Despite their tendency to obey, many of them like to imagine themselves advanced people, ‘destroyers.’ They try to join the ‘new movement,’ and they do so quite sincerely. This comes from a playful streak in their nature, a gift sometimes granted even to cows. Meanwhile, they often fail to notice the truly new people. They may even despise them as reactionaries with a groveling nature. But I don’t think there is any great danger here, and you really needn’t worry. They never go very far. Of course, they might sometimes get a beating for letting their imaginations run wild, to teach them their place, but nothing more. In fact, even that isn’t necessary, because they punish themselves. They are very conscientious: some punish one another, while others punish themselves with their own hands.... They will impose various public acts of repentance on themselves, with beautiful and uplifting results. In fact, you have nothing to worry about.... It’s a law of nature.”

“Well, you have certainly set my mind more at rest on that score; but there’s another thing worries me. Tell me, please, are there many people who have the right to kill others, these extraordinary people? I am ready to bow down to them, of course, but you must admit it’s alarming if there are a great many of them, eh?”

“Well, you’ve certainly put my mind more at ease about that. But something else worries me. Tell me, are there many of these extraordinary people who have the right to kill others? I’m ready to bow down to them, of course. But you must admit it’s alarming if there are a great many of them, isn’t it?”

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that either,” Raskolnikov went on in the same tone. “People with new ideas, people with the faintest capacity for saying something new, are extremely few in number, extraordinarily so in fact. One thing only is clear, that the appearance of all these grades and sub-divisions of men must follow with unfailing regularity some law of nature. That law, of course, is unknown at present, but I am convinced that it exists, and one day may become known. The vast mass of mankind is mere material, and only exists in order by some great effort, by some mysterious process, by means of some crossing of races and stocks, to bring into the world at last perhaps one man out of a thousand with a spark of independence. One in ten thousand perhaps—I speak roughly, approximately—is born with some independence, and with still greater independence one in a hundred thousand. The man of genius is one of millions, and the great geniuses, the crown of humanity, appear on earth perhaps one in many thousand millions. In fact I have not peeped into the retort in which all this takes place. But there certainly is and must be a definite law, it cannot be a matter of chance.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that either,” Raskolnikov went on in the same tone. “People with new ideas are extremely rare. Even people with the slightest ability to say something new are extraordinarily rare. Only one thing is clear: the appearance of all these grades and subdivisions of people must follow some law of nature. It must do so with unfailing regularity. Of course, this law is unknown at present. But I’m convinced it exists and may one day be discovered. “The vast mass of mankind is mere material. It exists only to bring perhaps one person in a thousand into the world with a spark of independence. This happens through some great effort, some mysterious process, some crossing of races and stocks. Perhaps one in ten thousand is born with some independence. I’m speaking roughly, of course. One in a hundred thousand has even greater independence. A genius is one in millions. The great geniuses, the crown of humanity, appear on earth perhaps once in many thousands of millions. In fact, I haven’t looked inside the retort where all this happens. But there certainly is and must be a definite law. It can’t be a matter of chance.”

“Why, are you both joking?” Razumihin cried at last. “There you sit, making fun of one another. Are you serious, Rodya?”

“Wait, are you both joking?” Razumihin cried at last. “You’re sitting there making fun of each other. Are you serious, Rodya?”

Raskolnikov raised his pale and almost mournful face and made no reply. And the unconcealed, persistent, nervous, and discourteous sarcasm of Porfiry seemed strange to Razumihin beside that quiet and mournful face.

Raskolnikov raised his pale, almost sorrowful face and said nothing. Beside that quiet, sorrowful face, Porfiry's open, persistent, nervous, and rude sarcasm seemed strange to Razumihin.

“Well, brother, if you are really serious... You are right, of course, in saying that it’s not new, that it’s like what we’ve read and heard a thousand times already; but what is really original in all this, and is exclusively your own, to my horror, is that you sanction bloodshed in the name of conscience, and, excuse my saying so, with such fanaticism.... That, I take it, is the point of your article. But that sanction of bloodshed by conscience is to my mind... more terrible than the official, legal sanction of bloodshed....”

“Well, brother, if you’re really serious... Of course, you’re right that it’s nothing new. It’s like what we’ve read and heard a thousand times before. But what’s truly original here, and yours alone, is that you approve of bloodshed in the name of conscience. To my horror, you do it with such fanaticism, if you’ll excuse me for saying so.... That, as I understand it, is the point of your article. But to me, approving bloodshed by conscience is... more terrible than the official, legal approval of bloodshed....”

“You are quite right, it is more terrible,” Porfiry agreed.

“You’re absolutely right, it’s more terrible,” Porfiry agreed.

“Yes, you must have exaggerated! There is some mistake, I shall read it. You can’t think that! I shall read it.”

“Yes, you must have exaggerated! There’s some mistake. I’ll read it. You can’t think that! I’ll read it.”

“All that is not in the article, there’s only a hint of it,” said Raskolnikov.

“All that isn’t in the article. There’s only a hint of it,” said Raskolnikov.

“Yes, yes.” Porfiry couldn’t sit still. “Your attitude to crime is pretty clear to me now, but... excuse me for my impertinence (I am really ashamed to be worrying you like this), you see, you’ve removed my anxiety as to the two grades getting mixed, but... there are various practical possibilities that make me uneasy! What if some man or youth imagines that he is a Lycurgus or Mahomet—a future one of course—and suppose he begins to remove all obstacles.... He has some great enterprise before him and needs money for it... and tries to get it... do you see?”

“Yes, yes.” Porfiry couldn’t sit still. “Your attitude toward crime is pretty clear to me now, but... forgive me for being so forward. I’m really ashamed to trouble you like this. You’ve reassured me that the two categories won’t get mixed up, but... there are all sorts of practical possibilities that worry me! What if some man or young person imagines he is a future Lycurgus or Mahomet? And suppose he begins to remove every obstacle.... He has some great undertaking ahead of him and needs money for it... and tries to get it... do you see?”

Zametov gave a sudden guffaw in his corner. Raskolnikov did not even raise his eyes to him.

Zametov suddenly burst out laughing in his corner. Raskolnikov did not even look up at him.

“I must admit,” he went on calmly, “that such cases certainly must arise. The vain and foolish are particularly apt to fall into that snare; young people especially.”

“I have to admit,” he continued calmly, “that such cases certainly do occur. Vain and foolish people are especially likely to fall into that trap, particularly young people.”

“Yes, you see. Well then?”

“Yes, you see. So?”

“What then?” Raskolnikov smiled in reply; “that’s not my fault. So it is and so it always will be. He said just now (he nodded at Razumihin) that I sanction bloodshed. Society is too well protected by prisons, banishment, criminal investigators, penal servitude. There’s no need to be uneasy. You have but to catch the thief.”

“What then?” Raskolnikov smiled in reply. “That’s not my fault. That’s how things are, and how they always will be. He just said that I approve of bloodshed.” He nodded at Razumihin. “Society is well protected by prisons, exile, criminal investigators, and hard labor. There’s no need to worry. You just have to catch the thief.”

“And what if we do catch him?”

“And what if we do catch him?”

“Then he gets what he deserves.”

“Then he gets what he deserves.”

“You are certainly logical. But what of his conscience?”

“You’re certainly logical. But what about his conscience?”

“Why do you care about that?”

“Why do you care about that?”

“Simply from humanity.”

“Simply out of compassion.”

“If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his punishment—as well as the prison.”

“If he has a conscience, he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his punishment, along with prison.”

“But the real geniuses,” asked Razumihin frowning, “those who have the right to murder? Oughtn’t they to suffer at all even for the blood they’ve shed?”

“But what about the real geniuses,” Razumihin asked, frowning, “the ones who have the right to murder? Shouldn’t they suffer at all for the blood they’ve shed?”

“Why the word ought? It’s not a matter of permission or prohibition. He will suffer if he is sorry for his victim. Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth,” he added dreamily, not in the tone of the conversation.

“Why use the word ought? It’s not a question of what is allowed or forbidden. He will suffer if he feels sorry for his victim. Pain and suffering are always inevitable for someone with a great mind and a deep heart. I think truly great men must feel great sadness in this world,” he added dreamily, in a tone unlike the rest of the conversation.

He raised his eyes, looked earnestly at them all, smiled, and took his cap. He was too quiet by comparison with his manner at his entrance, and he felt this. Everyone got up.

He looked up and gazed earnestly at them all. Then he smiled and picked up his cap. He was much quieter than he had been when he came in, and he was aware of it. Everyone stood up.

“Well, you may abuse me, be angry with me if you like,” Porfiry Petrovitch began again, “but I can’t resist. Allow me one little question (I know I am troubling you). There is just one little notion I want to express, simply that I may not forget it.”

“Well, you can insult me or be angry with me if you like,” Porfiry Petrovitch began again, “but I can’t resist. Let me ask one little question (I know I’m bothering you). There’s just one little idea I want to share, so I don’t forget it.”

“Very good, tell me your little notion,” Raskolnikov stood waiting, pale and grave before him.

“All right, tell me your little idea.” Raskolnikov stood waiting before him, pale and serious.

“Well, you see... I really don’t know how to express it properly.... It’s a playful, psychological idea.... When you were writing your article, surely you couldn’t have helped, he-he, fancying yourself... just a little, an ‘extraordinary’ man, uttering a new word in your sense.... That’s so, isn’t it?”

“Well, you see... I really don’t know how to put it.... It’s a playful psychological idea.... When you wrote your article, surely you couldn’t help imagining yourself... just a little... as an ‘extraordinary’ man, speaking a new word in your sense.... He-he. Isn’t that true?”

“Quite possibly,” Raskolnikov answered contemptuously.

“Maybe,” Raskolnikov replied with contempt.

Razumihin made a movement.

Razumihin moved.

“And, if so, could you bring yourself in case of worldly difficulties and hardship or for some service to humanity—to overstep obstacles?... For instance, to rob and murder?”

“And if so, could you bring yourself to cross the line if you faced hardship or wanted to help humanity? For instance, could you rob and murder?”

And again he winked with his left eye, and laughed noiselessly just as before.

Again, he winked his left eye and laughed silently, just as before.

“If I did I certainly should not tell you,” Raskolnikov answered with defiant and haughty contempt.

“If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you,” Raskolnikov answered with defiant, arrogant contempt.

“No, I was only interested on account of your article, from a literary point of view...”

“No, I was only interested because of your article, from a literary point of view...”

“Foo! how obvious and insolent that is!” Raskolnikov thought with repulsion.

“Ugh! How obvious and brazen that is!” Raskolnikov thought with disgust.

“Allow me to observe,” he answered dryly, “that I don’t consider myself a Mahomet or a Napoleon, nor any personage of that kind, and not being one of them I cannot tell you how I should act.”

“Let me point out,” he replied dryly, “that I don’t consider myself a Mahomet, a Napoleon, or anyone like them. Since I’m not one of them, I can’t tell you how I would act.”

“Oh, come, don’t we all think ourselves Napoleons now in Russia?” Porfiry Petrovitch said with alarming familiarity.

“Oh, come on, don’t we all think we’re Napoleons in Russia now?” Porfiry Petrovitch said with alarming familiarity.

Something peculiar betrayed itself in the very intonation of his voice.

Something strange showed in the very tone of his voice.

“Perhaps it was one of these future Napoleons who did for Alyona Ivanovna last week?” Zametov blurted out from the corner.

“Perhaps one of these future Napoleons killed Alyona Ivanovna last week?” Zametov blurted out from the corner.

Raskolnikov did not speak, but looked firmly and intently at Porfiry. Razumihin was scowling gloomily. He seemed before this to be noticing something. He looked angrily around. There was a minute of gloomy silence. Raskolnikov turned to go.

Raskolnikov said nothing, but stared steadily and intently at Porfiry. Razumihin was scowling gloomily. He seemed to have noticed something earlier. He looked around angrily. A minute of gloomy silence passed. Raskolnikov turned to leave.

“Are you going already?” Porfiry said amiably, holding out his hand with excessive politeness. “Very, very glad of your acquaintance. As for your request, have no uneasiness, write just as I told you, or, better still, come to me there yourself in a day or two... to-morrow, indeed. I shall be there at eleven o’clock for certain. We’ll arrange it all; we’ll have a talk. As one of the last to be there, you might perhaps be able to tell us something,” he added with a most good-natured expression.

“Are you leaving already?” Porfiry said warmly, holding out his hand with exaggerated politeness. “I’m very, very glad to have met you. As for your request, don’t worry. Write it just as I told you, or, better yet, come see me there yourself in a day or two... tomorrow, in fact. I’ll definitely be there at eleven o’clock. We’ll arrange everything and have a talk. Since you were one of the last people there, perhaps you can tell us something,” he added with a thoroughly friendly expression.

“You want to cross-examine me officially in due form?” Raskolnikov asked sharply.

“Do you want to formally question me?” Raskolnikov asked sharply.

“Oh, why? That’s not necessary for the present. You misunderstand me. I lose no opportunity, you see, and... I’ve talked with all who had pledges.... I obtained evidence from some of them, and you are the last.... Yes, by the way,” he cried, seeming suddenly delighted, “I just remember, what was I thinking of?” he turned to Razumihin, “you were talking my ears off about that Nikolay... of course, I know, I know very well,” he turned to Raskolnikov, “that the fellow is innocent, but what is one to do? We had to trouble Dmitri too.... This is the point, this is all: when you went up the stairs it was past seven, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, why? That’s not necessary for now. You misunderstand me. You see, I don’t miss an opportunity, and... I’ve spoken to everyone who had pawned something.... I got evidence from some of them, and you’re the last.... Yes, by the way,” he cried, suddenly seeming delighted, “I just remembered. What was I thinking?” He turned to Razumihin. “You were talking my ears off about that Nikolay... Of course, I know, I know very well,” he said, turning to Raskolnikov, “that the fellow is innocent, but what can we do? We had to trouble Dmitri too.... This is the point, this is all: when you went up the stairs, it was past seven, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” answered Raskolnikov, with an unpleasant sensation at the very moment he spoke that he need not have said it.

“Yes,” Raskolnikov answered. As soon as he spoke, he felt uneasy, realizing he did not need to say it.

“Then when you went upstairs between seven and eight, didn’t you see in a flat that stood open on a second storey, do you remember, two workmen or at least one of them? They were painting there, didn’t you notice them? It’s very, very important for them.”

“Then, when you went upstairs between seven and eight, did you see two workers in an open apartment on the second floor? Or at least one of them? Do you remember? They were painting there. Didn’t you notice them? It’s very, very important for them.”

“Painters? No, I didn’t see them,” Raskolnikov answered slowly, as though ransacking his memory, while at the same instant he was racking every nerve, almost swooning with anxiety to conjecture as quickly as possible where the trap lay and not to overlook anything. “No, I didn’t see them, and I don’t think I noticed a flat like that open.... But on the fourth storey” (he had mastered the trap now and was triumphant) “I remember now that someone was moving out of the flat opposite Alyona Ivanovna’s.... I remember... I remember it clearly. Some porters were carrying out a sofa and they squeezed me against the wall. But painters... no, I don’t remember that there were any painters, and I don’t think that there was a flat open anywhere, no, there wasn’t.”

“Painters? No, I didn’t see them,” Raskolnikov answered slowly, as though searching his memory. At the same time, he was straining every nerve, almost fainting with anxiety. He was trying to figure out where the trap lay as quickly as possible, without overlooking anything. “No, I didn’t see them, and I don’t think I noticed an apartment like that open.... But on the fourth floor” (he had figured out the trap now and was triumphant) “I remember now that someone was moving out of the apartment opposite Alyona Ivanovna’s.... I remember... I remember it clearly. Some porters were carrying out a sofa, and they squeezed me against the wall. But painters... no, I don’t remember any painters, and I don’t think there was an apartment open anywhere, no, there wasn’t.”

“What do you mean?” Razumihin shouted suddenly, as though he had reflected and realised. “Why, it was on the day of the murder the painters were at work, and he was there three days before? What are you asking?”

“What do you mean?” Razumihin suddenly shouted, as if he had thought it over and realized something. “The painters were working on the day of the murder, but he was there three days earlier. What are you asking?”

“Foo! I have muddled it!” Porfiry slapped himself on the forehead. “Deuce take it! This business is turning my brain!” he addressed Raskolnikov somewhat apologetically. “It would be such a great thing for us to find out whether anyone had seen them between seven and eight at the flat, so I fancied you could perhaps have told us something.... I quite muddled it.”

“Oh! I’ve got it mixed up!” Porfiry slapped his forehead. “Damn it! This business is driving me crazy!” He turned to Raskolnikov, sounding somewhat apologetic. “It would be a great help to find out whether anyone saw them at the apartment between seven and eight. So I thought perhaps you could tell us something.... I got it all mixed up.”

“Then you should be more careful,” Razumihin observed grimly.

“Then you should be more careful,” Razumihin said grimly.

The last words were uttered in the passage. Porfiry Petrovitch saw them to the door with excessive politeness.

The last words were spoken in the hallway. Porfiry Petrovitch showed them to the door with excessive politeness.

They went out into the street gloomy and sullen, and for some steps they did not say a word. Raskolnikov drew a deep breath.

They went out into the street, gloomy and sullen. They walked a few steps without speaking. Raskolnikov took a deep breath.