Chapter 5

Lebeziatnikov looked perturbed.

Lebeziatnikov looked troubled.

“I’ve come to you, Sofya Semyonovna,” he began. “Excuse me... I thought I should find you,” he said, addressing Raskolnikov suddenly, “that is, I didn’t mean anything... of that sort... But I just thought... Katerina Ivanovna has gone out of her mind,” he blurted out suddenly, turning from Raskolnikov to Sonia.

“I’ve come to see you, Sofya Semyonovna,” he began. “Excuse me... I thought I’d find you here,” he said, suddenly addressing Raskolnikov. “I mean, I didn’t mean anything... like that... But I just thought...” He suddenly turned from Raskolnikov to Sonia and blurted out, “Katerina Ivanovna has gone out of her mind.”

Sonia screamed.

Sonia screamed.

“At least it seems so. But... we don’t know what to do, you see! She came back—she seems to have been turned out somewhere, perhaps beaten.... So it seems at least,... She had run to your father’s former chief, she didn’t find him at home: he was dining at some other general’s.... Only fancy, she rushed off there, to the other general’s, and, imagine, she was so persistent that she managed to get the chief to see her, had him fetched out from dinner, it seems. You can imagine what happened. She was turned out, of course; but, according to her own story, she abused him and threw something at him. One may well believe it.... How it is she wasn’t taken up, I can’t understand! Now she is telling everyone, including Amalia Ivanovna; but it’s difficult to understand her, she is screaming and flinging herself about.... Oh yes, she shouts that since everyone has abandoned her, she will take the children and go into the street with a barrel-organ, and the children will sing and dance, and she too, and collect money, and will go every day under the general’s window... ‘to let everyone see well-born children, whose father was an official, begging in the street.’ She keeps beating the children and they are all crying. She is teaching Lida to sing ‘My Village,’ the boy to dance, Polenka the same. She is tearing up all the clothes, and making them little caps like actors; she means to carry a tin basin and make it tinkle, instead of music.... She won’t listen to anything.... Imagine the state of things! It’s beyond anything!”

“At least, that’s how it seems. But... we don’t know what to do, you see! She came back. It seems she was thrown out of somewhere, perhaps even beaten.... At least, that’s how it seems.... She had rushed to your father’s former chief, but he wasn’t home. He was having dinner at another general’s house.... Just imagine, she rushed over there too. She was so persistent that she managed to get the chief to see her. It seems they fetched him from dinner. You can imagine what happened. Of course, she was thrown out. But according to her, she insulted him and threw something at him. That’s easy enough to believe.... I can’t understand how she escaped arrest! Now she’s telling everyone about it, including Amalia Ivanovna. But it’s hard to understand her. She’s screaming and throwing herself around.... “Oh yes, she’s shouting that everyone has abandoned her. So she’ll take the children into the street with a barrel-organ. The children will sing and dance, and she’ll do the same. They’ll collect money, and they’ll go under the general’s window every day. She says it’s ‘to let everyone see well-born children, whose father was an official, begging in the street.’ She keeps hitting the children, and they’re all crying. She’s teaching Lida to sing ‘My Village,’ and the boy to dance. She’s teaching Polenka to dance too. She’s tearing up all the clothes to make them little caps like actors wear. She plans to carry a tin basin and make it jingle instead of music.... She won’t listen to anything.... Imagine what it’s like! It’s beyond anything!”

Lebeziatnikov would have gone on, but Sonia, who had heard him almost breathless, snatched up her cloak and hat, and ran out of the room, putting on her things as she went. Raskolnikov followed her and Lebeziatnikov came after him.

Lebeziatnikov would have continued, but Sonia had listened to him almost breathlessly. She grabbed her cloak and hat and ran out of the room, putting them on as she went. Raskolnikov followed her, and Lebeziatnikov came after him.

“She has certainly gone mad!” he said to Raskolnikov, as they went out into the street. “I didn’t want to frighten Sofya Semyonovna, so I said ‘it seemed like it,’ but there isn’t a doubt of it. They say that in consumption the tubercles sometimes occur in the brain; it’s a pity I know nothing of medicine. I did try to persuade her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“She’s certainly gone mad!” he said to Raskolnikov as they went out into the street. “I didn’t want to frighten Sofya Semyonovna, so I said ‘it seemed like it,’ but there’s no doubt she’s gone mad. They say that tuberculosis sometimes causes growths in the brain. It’s a pity I don’t know anything about medicine. I did try to persuade her, but she wouldn’t listen.”

“Did you talk to her about the tubercles?”

“Did you talk to her about the tubercles?”

“Not precisely of the tubercles. Besides, she wouldn’t have understood! But what I say is, that if you convince a person logically that he has nothing to cry about, he’ll stop crying. That’s clear. Is it your conviction that he won’t?”

“Not exactly about the tubercles. Besides, she wouldn’t have understood! But what I’m saying is this: if you logically convince someone that he has nothing to cry about, he’ll stop crying. That’s clear. Do you believe he won’t?”

“Life would be too easy if it were so,” answered Raskolnikov.

“Life would be too easy if that were true,” Raskolnikov replied.

“Excuse me, excuse me; of course it would be rather difficult for Katerina Ivanovna to understand, but do you know that in Paris they have been conducting serious experiments as to the possibility of curing the insane, simply by logical argument? One professor there, a scientific man of standing, lately dead, believed in the possibility of such treatment. His idea was that there’s nothing really wrong with the physical organism of the insane, and that insanity is, so to say, a logical mistake, an error of judgment, an incorrect view of things. He gradually showed the madman his error and, would you believe it, they say he was successful? But as he made use of douches too, how far success was due to that treatment remains uncertain.... So it seems at least.”

“Excuse me, excuse me. Of course, it would be rather difficult for Katerina Ivanovna to understand. But did you know that in Paris they have been conducting serious experiments on treating insanity through logical argument alone? One professor there, a respected scientist who recently died, believed such treatment was possible. He thought there was nothing physically wrong with people suffering from insanity. He believed insanity was, so to speak, a mistake in logic, an error of judgment, a false view of things. He gradually showed his patients their errors and, would you believe it, they say he succeeded? But he also used water douches, so it remains unclear how much of his success was due to that treatment.... At least, that’s how it seems.”

Raskolnikov had long ceased to listen. Reaching the house where he lived, he nodded to Lebeziatnikov and went in at the gate. Lebeziatnikov woke up with a start, looked about him and hurried on.

Raskolnikov had stopped listening long before. When he reached the house where he lived, he nodded to Lebeziatnikov and went through the gate. Lebeziatnikov woke with a start, looked around, and hurried on.

Raskolnikov went into his little room and stood still in the middle of it. Why had he come back here? He looked at the yellow and tattered paper, at the dust, at his sofa.... From the yard came a loud continuous knocking; someone seemed to be hammering... He went to the window, rose on tiptoe and looked out into the yard for a long time with an air of absorbed attention. But the yard was empty and he could not see who was hammering. In the house on the left he saw some open windows; on the window-sills were pots of sickly-looking geraniums. Linen was hung out of the windows... He knew it all by heart. He turned away and sat down on the sofa.

Raskolnikov went into his little room and stood still in the middle of it. Why had he come back here? He looked at the yellow, torn wallpaper, the dust, and his sofa.... From the yard came a loud, continuous knocking. Someone seemed to be hammering... He went to the window, stood on tiptoe, and stared into the yard for a long time, completely absorbed. But the yard was empty, and he could not see who was hammering. In the house on the left, he saw some open windows. Pots of sickly-looking geraniums sat on the windowsills. Laundry hung out of the windows... He knew it all by heart. He turned away and sat down on the sofa.

Never, never had he felt himself so fearfully alone!

Never, never had he felt so terribly alone!

Yes, he felt once more that he would perhaps come to hate Sonia, now that he had made her more miserable.

Yes, he felt again that he might come to hate Sonia, now that he had made her even more miserable.

“Why had he gone to her to beg for her tears? What need had he to poison her life? Oh, the meanness of it!”

“Why had he gone to her to beg for her tears? Why did he have to poison her life? Oh, how cruel of him!”

“I will remain alone,” he said resolutely, “and she shall not come to the prison!”

“I’ll stay alone,” he said firmly, “and she won’t come to the prison!”

Five minutes later he raised his head with a strange smile. That was a strange thought.

Five minutes later, he looked up with a strange smile. That was a strange thought.

“Perhaps it really would be better in Siberia,” he thought suddenly.

“Maybe it really would be better in Siberia,” he suddenly thought.

He could not have said how long he sat there with vague thoughts surging through his mind. All at once the door opened and Dounia came in. At first she stood still and looked at him from the doorway, just as he had done at Sonia; then she came in and sat down in the same place as yesterday, on the chair facing him. He looked silently and almost vacantly at her.

He could not have said how long he sat there, vague thoughts surging through his mind. Suddenly, the door opened and Dounia came in. At first, she stood in the doorway and looked at him, just as he had looked at Sonia. Then she came in and sat in the same place as yesterday, on the chair facing him. He looked at her silently, his gaze almost vacant.

“Don’t be angry, brother; I’ve only come for one minute,” said Dounia.

“Don’t be angry, brother. I’ve only come for a minute,” said Dounia.

Her face looked thoughtful but not stern. Her eyes were bright and soft. He saw that she too had come to him with love.

Her face looked thoughtful but not stern. Her eyes were bright and gentle. He saw that she had come to him with love too.

“Brother, now I know all, all. Dmitri Prokofitch has explained and told me everything. They are worrying and persecuting you through a stupid and contemptible suspicion.... Dmitri Prokofitch told me that there is no danger, and that you are wrong in looking upon it with such horror. I don’t think so, and I fully understand how indignant you must be, and that that indignation may have a permanent effect on you. That’s what I am afraid of. As for your cutting yourself off from us, I don’t judge you, I don’t venture to judge you, and forgive me for having blamed you for it. I feel that I too, if I had so great a trouble, should keep away from everyone. I shall tell mother nothing of this, but I shall talk about you continually and shall tell her from you that you will come very soon. Don’t worry about her; I will set her mind at rest; but don’t you try her too much—come once at least; remember that she is your mother. And now I have come simply to say” (Dounia began to get up) “that if you should need me or should need... all my life or anything... call me, and I’ll come. Good-bye!”

“Brother, now I know all, all. Dmitri Prokofitch has explained everything to me. They’re harassing and persecuting you over a stupid and contemptible suspicion.... Dmitri Prokofitch told me there’s no danger and that you’re wrong to be so horrified by it. I don’t agree with him. I fully understand how indignant you must be, and that your indignation may have a lasting effect on you. That’s what I’m afraid of. “As for your cutting yourself off from us, I don’t judge you. I wouldn’t dare judge you. Forgive me for blaming you for it. I feel that if I had such a great trouble, I too would keep away from everyone. I won’t tell mother anything about this, but I’ll talk about you all the time. I’ll tell her you say you’ll come very soon. Don’t worry about her. I will put her mind at rest. But don’t put her through too much. Come at least once. Remember that she’s your mother. And now I’ve come simply to say” (Dounia began to get up) “that if you need me or need... my whole life or anything... call me, and I’ll come. Good-bye!”

She turned abruptly and went towards the door.

She turned suddenly and went toward the door.

“Dounia!” Raskolnikov stopped her and went towards her. “That Razumihin, Dmitri Prokofitch, is a very good fellow.”

“Dounia!” Raskolnikov stopped her and walked over to her. “Razumihin, Dmitri Prokofitch, is a very good man.”

Dounia flushed slightly.

Dounia blushed slightly.

“Well?” she asked, waiting a moment.

“Well?” she asked after a moment.

“He is competent, hardworking, honest and capable of real love.... Good-bye, Dounia.”

“He is capable, hardworking, honest, and able to truly love.... Goodbye, Dounia.”

Dounia flushed crimson, then suddenly she took alarm.

Dounia's face turned bright red, and then she suddenly grew alarmed.

“But what does it mean, brother? Are we really parting for ever that you... give me such a parting message?”

“But what does it mean, brother? Are we really parting forever, that you... give me such a farewell message?”

“Never mind.... Good-bye.”

“Never mind.... Goodbye.”

He turned away, and walked to the window. She stood a moment, looked at him uneasily, and went out troubled.

He turned away and walked to the window. She stood there for a moment, looking at him uneasily. Then she left, troubled.

No, he was not cold to her. There was an instant (the very last one) when he had longed to take her in his arms and say good-bye to her, and even to tell her, but he had not dared even to touch her hand.

No, he was not cold to her. There was a moment, the very last one, when he wanted to hold her and say goodbye. He even wanted to tell her. But he had not dared to touch her hand.

“Afterwards she may shudder when she remembers that I embraced her, and will feel that I stole her kiss.”

“Later, she may shudder when she remembers that I held her, and she will feel that I stole her kiss.”

“And would she stand that test?” he went on a few minutes later to himself. “No, she wouldn’t; girls like that can’t stand things! They never do.”

“And would she pass that test?” he wondered a few minutes later. “No, she wouldn’t. Girls like that can’t stand things! They never do.”

And he thought of Sonia.

And he thought of Sonia.

There was a breath of fresh air from the window. The daylight was fading. He took up his cap and went out.

A breath of fresh air came through the window. The daylight was fading. He picked up his cap and went out.

He could not, of course, and would not consider how ill he was. But all this continual anxiety and agony of mind could not but affect him. And if he were not lying in high fever it was perhaps just because this continual inner strain helped to keep him on his legs and in possession of his faculties. But this artificial excitement could not last long.

Of course, he could not and would not consider how ill he was. But all this constant anxiety and mental anguish was bound to affect him. If he was not lying down with a high fever, perhaps it was only because the constant inner strain kept him on his feet and his mind working. But this artificial excitement could not last long.

He wandered aimlessly. The sun was setting. A special form of misery had begun to oppress him of late. There was nothing poignant, nothing acute about it; but there was a feeling of permanence, of eternity about it; it brought a foretaste of hopeless years of this cold leaden misery, a foretaste of an eternity “on a square yard of space.” Towards evening this sensation usually began to weigh on him more heavily.

He wandered without direction. The sun was setting. Lately, a particular kind of misery had begun to weigh on him. It was neither sharp nor intense. But it felt permanent, eternal. It gave him a taste of hopeless years filled with this cold, heavy misery. It gave him a taste of eternity “on a square yard of space.” This feeling usually weighed on him more heavily toward evening.

“With this idiotic, purely physical weakness, depending on the sunset or something, one can’t help doing something stupid! You’ll go to Dounia, as well as to Sonia,” he muttered bitterly.

“With this stupid physical weakness that depends on the sunset or something, you can’t help doing something stupid! You’ll go to Dounia as well as Sonia,” he muttered bitterly.

He heard his name called. He looked round. Lebeziatnikov rushed up to him.

He heard someone call his name. He looked around. Lebeziatnikov rushed up to him.

“Only fancy, I’ve been to your room looking for you. Only fancy, she’s carried out her plan, and taken away the children. Sofya Semyonovna and I have had a job to find them. She is rapping on a frying-pan and making the children dance. The children are crying. They keep stopping at the cross-roads and in front of shops; there’s a crowd of fools running after them. Come along!”

“Just imagine, I went to your room looking for you. And just imagine, she’s gone through with her plan and taken the children away. Sofya Semyonovna and I had a hard time finding them. She’s banging on a frying pan and making the children dance. The children are crying. They keep stopping at crossroads and in front of shops. A crowd of fools is running after them. Come on!”

“And Sonia?” Raskolnikov asked anxiously, hurrying after Lebeziatnikov.

“And Sonia?” Raskolnikov asked anxiously as he hurried after Lebeziatnikov.

“Simply frantic. That is, it’s not Sofya Semyonovna’s frantic, but Katerina Ivanovna, though Sofya Semyonovna’s frantic too. But Katerina Ivanovna is absolutely frantic. I tell you she is quite mad. They’ll be taken to the police. You can fancy what an effect that will have.... They are on the canal bank, near the bridge now, not far from Sofya Semyonovna’s, quite close.”

“Absolutely frantic. I mean, not Sofya Semyonovna, but Katerina Ivanovna, although Sofya Semyonovna is frantic too. But Katerina Ivanovna is absolutely frantic. I tell you, she’s completely mad. They’ll be taken to the police. You can imagine what effect that will have.... They’re on the canal bank near the bridge now, very close to Sofya Semyonovna’s place.”

On the canal bank near the bridge and not two houses away from the one where Sonia lodged, there was a crowd of people, consisting principally of gutter children. The hoarse broken voice of Katerina Ivanovna could be heard from the bridge, and it certainly was a strange spectacle likely to attract a street crowd. Katerina Ivanovna in her old dress with the green shawl, wearing a torn straw hat, crushed in a hideous way on one side, was really frantic. She was exhausted and breathless. Her wasted consumptive face looked more suffering than ever, and indeed out of doors in the sunshine a consumptive always looks worse than at home. But her excitement did not flag, and every moment her irritation grew more intense. She rushed at the children, shouted at them, coaxed them, told them before the crowd how to dance and what to sing, began explaining to them why it was necessary, and driven to desperation by their not understanding, beat them.... Then she would make a rush at the crowd; if she noticed any decently dressed person stopping to look, she immediately appealed to him to see what these children “from a genteel, one may say aristocratic, house” had been brought to. If she heard laughter or jeering in the crowd, she would rush at once at the scoffers and begin squabbling with them. Some people laughed, others shook their heads, but everyone felt curious at the sight of the madwoman with the frightened children. The frying-pan of which Lebeziatnikov had spoken was not there, at least Raskolnikov did not see it. But instead of rapping on the pan, Katerina Ivanovna began clapping her wasted hands, when she made Lida and Kolya dance and Polenka sing. She too joined in the singing, but broke down at the second note with a fearful cough, which made her curse in despair and even shed tears. What made her most furious was the weeping and terror of Kolya and Lida. Some effort had been made to dress the children up as street singers are dressed. The boy had on a turban made of something red and white to look like a Turk. There had been no costume for Lida; she simply had a red knitted cap, or rather a night cap that had belonged to Marmeladov, decorated with a broken piece of white ostrich feather, which had been Katerina Ivanovna’s grandmother’s and had been preserved as a family possession. Polenka was in her everyday dress; she looked in timid perplexity at her mother, and kept at her side, hiding her tears. She dimly realised her mother’s condition, and looked uneasily about her. She was terribly frightened of the street and the crowd. Sonia followed Katerina Ivanovna, weeping and beseeching her to return home, but Katerina Ivanovna was not to be persuaded.

A crowd had gathered on the canal bank near the bridge, less than two houses from Sonia’s lodgings. Most were street children. Katerina Ivanovna’s hoarse, broken voice could be heard from the bridge. She was a strange sight, sure to draw a crowd. She wore her old dress and green shawl, with a torn straw hat hideously crushed on one side. She was frantic, exhausted, and out of breath. Her thin face, ravaged by tuberculosis, looked more pained than ever. Indeed, someone with the disease always looks worse outdoors in the sunshine than at home. But her excitement did not fade, and she grew more irritated by the moment. She rushed at the children, shouting at them and coaxing them. In front of the crowd, she told them how to dance and what to sing. She began explaining why they had to do it. When they failed to understand, she grew desperate and beat them.... Then she would rush at the crowd. If a well-dressed person stopped to watch, she immediately begged him to see what had become of these children “from a genteel, one may say aristocratic, house”. If she heard laughter or jeering, she rushed at the people mocking her and quarreled with them. Some laughed, and others shook their heads. But everyone was curious about the madwoman and the frightened children. The frying pan Lebeziatnikov had mentioned was not there, or at least Raskolnikov did not see it. Instead of banging on the pan, Katerina Ivanovna clapped her thin hands as she made Lida and Kolya dance and Polenka sing. She joined in the singing herself, but a terrible cough stopped her on the second note. In despair, she cursed and even shed tears. What angered her most was how frightened Kolya and Lida were, and how they cried. Someone had tried to dress the children like street singers. The boy wore a turban made from something red and white, to make him look like a Turk. There had been no costume for Lida. She simply wore a red knitted cap, or rather a nightcap that had belonged to Marmeladov. It was decorated with a broken piece of white ostrich feather. The feather had belonged to Katerina Ivanovna’s grandmother and had been kept as a family possession. Polenka wore her everyday dress. She looked at her mother with timid confusion and stayed beside her, hiding her tears. She dimly understood her mother’s condition and looked around uneasily. The street and the crowd terrified her. Sonia followed Katerina Ivanovna, crying and begging her to go home, but Katerina Ivanovna would not be persuaded.

“Leave off, Sonia, leave off,” she shouted, speaking fast, panting and coughing. “You don’t know what you ask; you are like a child! I’ve told you before that I am not coming back to that drunken German. Let everyone, let all Petersburg see the children begging in the streets, though their father was an honourable man who served all his life in truth and fidelity, and one may say died in the service.” (Katerina Ivanovna had by now invented this fantastic story and thoroughly believed it.) “Let that wretch of a general see it! And you are silly, Sonia: what have we to eat? Tell me that. We have worried you enough, I won’t go on so! Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, is that you?” she cried, seeing Raskolnikov and rushing up to him. “Explain to this silly girl, please, that nothing better could be done! Even organ-grinders earn their living, and everyone will see at once that we are different, that we are an honourable and bereaved family reduced to beggary. And that general will lose his post, you’ll see! We shall perform under his windows every day, and if the Tsar drives by, I’ll fall on my knees, put the children before me, show them to him, and say ‘Defend us, father.’ He is the father of the fatherless, he is merciful, he’ll protect us, you’ll see, and that wretch of a general.... Lida, tenez vous droite! Kolya, you’ll dance again. Why are you whimpering? Whimpering again! What are you afraid of, stupid? Goodness, what am I to do with them, Rodion Romanovitch? If you only knew how stupid they are! What’s one to do with such children?”

“Stop, Sonia, stop,” she shouted, speaking fast, panting and coughing. “You don’t know what you’re asking. You’re like a child! I’ve told you before that I’m not going back to that drunken German. Let everyone, let all Petersburg see the children begging in the streets. Their father was an honorable man who served all his life with honesty and loyalty. You could even say he died in the service.” (By now, Katerina Ivanovna had invented this fantastic story and thoroughly believed it.) “Let that wretch of a general see them! And you’re being silly, Sonia. What do we have to eat? Tell me that. We’ve burdened you enough, and I won’t let it go on! Ah, Rodion Romanovitch, is that you?” she cried, seeing Raskolnikov and rushing up to him. “Please explain to this silly girl that nothing better could be done! Even organ-grinders earn a living. And everyone will see at once that we’re different, that we’re an honorable family, grieving and reduced to begging. And that general will lose his post, you’ll see! We’ll perform under his windows every day. And if the Tsar drives by, I’ll fall to my knees and put the children in front of me. I’ll show them to him and say, ‘Defend us, father.’ He is the father of the fatherless. He is merciful. He’ll protect us, you’ll see, and that wretch of a general.... Lida, stand up straight! Kolya, you’ll dance again. Why are you whimpering? Whimpering again! What are you afraid of, stupid? Goodness, what am I to do with them, Rodion Romanovitch? If you only knew how stupid they are! What can anyone do with such children?”

And she, almost crying herself—which did not stop her uninterrupted, rapid flow of talk—pointed to the crying children. Raskolnikov tried to persuade her to go home, and even said, hoping to work on her vanity, that it was unseemly for her to be wandering about the streets like an organ-grinder, as she was intending to become the principal of a boarding-school.

She pointed to the crying children, almost crying herself. Even so, she kept talking rapidly without stopping. Raskolnikov tried to persuade her to go home. Hoping to appeal to her vanity, he said it was unbecoming for her to wander the streets like an organ-grinder. After all, she intended to become the principal of a boarding school.

“A boarding-school, ha-ha-ha! A castle in the air,” cried Katerina Ivanovna, her laugh ending in a cough. “No, Rodion Romanovitch, that dream is over! All have forsaken us!... And that general.... You know, Rodion Romanovitch, I threw an inkpot at him—it happened to be standing in the waiting-room by the paper where you sign your name. I wrote my name, threw it at him and ran away. Oh, the scoundrels, the scoundrels! But enough of them, now I’ll provide for the children myself, I won’t bow down to anybody! She has had to bear enough for us!” she pointed to Sonia. “Polenka, how much have you got? Show me! What, only two farthings! Oh, the mean wretches! They give us nothing, only run after us, putting their tongues out. There, what is that blockhead laughing at?” (She pointed to a man in the crowd.) “It’s all because Kolya here is so stupid; I have such a bother with him. What do you want, Polenka? Tell me in French, parlez-moi français. Why, I’ve taught you, you know some phrases. Else how are you to show that you are of good family, well brought-up children, and not at all like other organ-grinders? We aren’t going to have a Punch and Judy show in the street, but to sing a genteel song.... Ah, yes,... What are we to sing? You keep putting me out, but we... you see, we are standing here, Rodion Romanovitch, to find something to sing and get money, something Kolya can dance to.... For, as you can fancy, our performance is all impromptu.... We must talk it over and rehearse it all thoroughly, and then we shall go to Nevsky, where there are far more people of good society, and we shall be noticed at once. Lida knows ‘My Village’ only, nothing but ‘My Village,’ and everyone sings that. We must sing something far more genteel.... Well, have you thought of anything, Polenka? If only you’d help your mother! My memory’s quite gone, or I should have thought of something. We really can’t sing ‘An Hussar.’ Ah, let us sing in French, ‘Cinq sous,’ I have taught it you, I have taught it you. And as it is in French, people will see at once that you are children of good family, and that will be much more touching.... You might sing ‘Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre,’ for that’s quite a child’s song and is sung as a lullaby in all the aristocratic houses.

“A boarding school, ha-ha-ha! A dream that will never come true,” cried Katerina Ivanovna, her laughter ending in a cough. “No, Rodion Romanovitch, that dream is over! Everyone has abandoned us!... And that general.... You know, Rodion Romanovitch, I threw an inkpot at him. It was in the waiting room, beside the paper where you sign your name. I wrote my name, threw the inkpot at him, and ran away. Oh, the scoundrels, the scoundrels! But enough about them. Now I’ll provide for the children myself. I won’t bow down to anyone! She has suffered enough for us!” She pointed to Sonia. “Polenka, how much have you got? Show me! What, only two farthings! Oh, the stingy wretches! They give us nothing. They just follow us, sticking out their tongues. Now, what is that idiot laughing at?” (She pointed to a man in the crowd.) “It’s all because Kolya here is so stupid. I have so much trouble with him. What do you want, Polenka? Tell me in French, parlez-moi français. I’ve taught you, you know some phrases. Otherwise, how will you show that you’re well-brought-up children from a good family? You’re not at all like other organ-grinders. We’re not going to put on a Punch and Judy show in the street. We’re going to sing a refined song.... Ah, yes,... What shall we sing? You keep distracting me. But we... you see, Rodion Romanovitch, we’re standing here trying to find something to sing for money. Something Kolya can dance to.... As you can imagine, our performance is completely unplanned.... We must discuss it and rehearse everything thoroughly. Then we’ll go to Nevsky, where there are far more people from good society. We’ll be noticed at once there. Lida only knows ‘My Village,’ nothing but ‘My Village,’ and everyone sings that. We must sing something much more refined.... Well, have you thought of anything, Polenka? If only you’d help your mother! My memory has completely failed me, or I would have thought of something. We really can’t sing ‘An Hussar.’ Ah, let’s sing ‘Cinq sous’ in French. I’ve taught it to you, I’ve taught it to you. And because it’s in French, people will see at once that you’re children from a good family. That will be much more touching.... You could sing ‘Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre.’ It’s a children’s song, and it’s sung as a lullaby in all the aristocratic homes.

“Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra...” she began singing. “But no, better sing ‘Cinq sous.’ Now, Kolya, your hands on your hips, make haste, and you, Lida, keep turning the other way, and Polenka and I will sing and clap our hands!

“Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra...” she began to sing. “But no, let’s sing ‘Cinq sous’ instead. Now, Kolya, put your hands on your hips. Hurry! Lida, keep turning the other way. Polenka and I will sing and clap our hands!

“Cinq sous, cinq sous Pour monter notre menage.”

“Five sous, five sous to set up our household.”

(Cough-cough-cough!) “Set your dress straight, Polenka, it’s slipped down on your shoulders,” she observed, panting from coughing. “Now it’s particularly necessary to behave nicely and genteelly, that all may see that you are well-born children. I said at the time that the bodice should be cut longer, and made of two widths. It was your fault, Sonia, with your advice to make it shorter, and now you see the child is quite deformed by it.... Why, you’re all crying again! What’s the matter, stupids? Come, Kolya, begin. Make haste, make haste! Oh, what an unbearable child!

(Cough, cough, cough!) “Straighten your dress, Polenka. It’s slipped down over your shoulders,” she said, panting from the coughing. “Now it’s especially important to behave nicely and politely, so everyone can see that you are well-born children. I said at the time that the bodice should be cut longer and made from two widths of fabric. It was your fault, Sonia. You advised me to make it shorter, and now you can see how it makes the child look deformed.... Why, you’re all crying again! What’s the matter, you silly children? Come on, Kolya, begin. Hurry, hurry! Oh, what an unbearable child!

“Cinq sous, cinq sous.

“Five sous, five sous.

“A policeman again! What do you want?”

“A policeman again! What do you want?”

A policeman was indeed forcing his way through the crowd. But at that moment a gentleman in civilian uniform and an overcoat—a solid-looking official of about fifty with a decoration on his neck (which delighted Katerina Ivanovna and had its effect on the policeman)—approached and without a word handed her a green three-rouble note. His face wore a look of genuine sympathy. Katerina Ivanovna took it and gave him a polite, even ceremonious, bow.

A policeman was indeed pushing his way through the crowd. But just then, a gentleman approached in a civilian uniform and overcoat. He was a solid-looking official of about fifty, with a medal around his neck. The medal delighted Katerina Ivanovna and impressed the policeman. Without a word, he handed her a green three-rouble note. His face showed genuine sympathy. Katerina Ivanovna took the note and bowed politely, almost ceremoniously.

“I thank you, honoured sir,” she began loftily. “The causes that have induced us (take the money, Polenka: you see there are generous and honourable people who are ready to help a poor gentlewoman in distress). You see, honoured sir, these orphans of good family—I might even say of aristocratic connections—and that wretch of a general sat eating grouse... and stamped at my disturbing him. ‘Your excellency,’ I said, ‘protect the orphans, for you knew my late husband, Semyon Zaharovitch, and on the very day of his death the basest of scoundrels slandered his only daughter.’... That policeman again! Protect me,” she cried to the official. “Why is that policeman edging up to me? We have only just run away from one of them. What do you want, fool?”

“Thank you, sir,” she began grandly. “The reasons that have led us here. (Take the money, Polenka. You see there are generous and honorable people ready to help a poor lady in distress.) You see, sir, these orphans come from a good family. I might even say they have aristocratic connections. And that awful general sat eating grouse... and stamped his foot because I had disturbed him. ‘Your excellency,’ I said, ‘protect the orphans. You knew my late husband, Semyon Zaharovitch. And on the very day he died, the vilest of scoundrels slandered his only daughter.’... That policeman again! Protect me,” she cried to the official. “Why is that policeman creeping up to me? We have only just run away from another one. What do you want, fool?”

“It’s forbidden in the streets. You mustn’t make a disturbance.”

“It’s not allowed in the streets. You mustn’t cause a disturbance.”

“It’s you’re making a disturbance. It’s just the same as if I were grinding an organ. What business is it of yours?”

“You’re the one causing a disturbance. It’s just like if I were playing a street organ. What’s it to you?”

“You have to get a licence for an organ, and you haven’t got one, and in that way you collect a crowd. Where do you lodge?”

“You need a license for an organ, and you don’t have one. And you draw a crowd that way. Where are you staying?”

“What, a license?” wailed Katerina Ivanovna. “I buried my husband to-day. What need of a license?”

“What, a license?” wailed Katerina Ivanovna. “I buried my husband today. Why do I need a license?”

“Calm yourself, madam, calm yourself,” began the official. “Come along; I will escort you.... This is no place for you in the crowd. You are ill.”

“Calm down, madam, calm down,” the official began. “Come with me. I’ll escort you.... You shouldn’t be in this crowd. You’re ill.”

“Honoured sir, honoured sir, you don’t know,” screamed Katerina Ivanovna. “We are going to the Nevsky.... Sonia, Sonia! Where is she? She is crying too! What’s the matter with you all? Kolya, Lida, where are you going?” she cried suddenly in alarm. “Oh, silly children! Kolya, Lida, where are they off to?...”

“Sir, sir, you don’t know,” screamed Katerina Ivanovna. “We’re going to the Nevsky.... Sonia, Sonia! Where is she? She’s crying too! What’s wrong with all of you? Kolya, Lida, where are you going?” she cried, suddenly alarmed. “Oh, silly children! Kolya, Lida, where are they going?...”

Kolya and Lida, scared out of their wits by the crowd, and their mother’s mad pranks, suddenly seized each other by the hand, and ran off at the sight of the policeman who wanted to take them away somewhere. Weeping and wailing, poor Katerina Ivanovna ran after them. She was a piteous and unseemly spectacle, as she ran, weeping and panting for breath. Sonia and Polenka rushed after her.

Kolya and Lida were terrified by the crowd and their mother’s wild antics. When they saw the policeman who wanted to take them away somewhere, they grabbed each other’s hands and ran off. Poor Katerina Ivanovna ran after them, crying and wailing. She was a pitiful and undignified sight as she ran, weeping and gasping for breath. Sonia and Polenka rushed after her.

“Bring them back, bring them back, Sonia! Oh stupid, ungrateful children!... Polenka! catch them.... It’s for your sakes I...”

“Bring them back, bring them back, Sonia! Oh, you stupid, ungrateful children!... Polenka! Catch them.... It’s for your sake that I...”

She stumbled as she ran and fell down.

She stumbled and fell as she ran.

“She’s cut herself, she’s bleeding! Oh, dear!” cried Sonia, bending over her.

“She’s cut herself! She’s bleeding! Oh, no!” cried Sonia, bending over her.

All ran up and crowded round. Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov were the first at her side, the official too hastened up, and behind him the policeman who muttered, “Bother!” with a gesture of impatience, feeling that the job was going to be a troublesome one.

Everyone ran over and crowded around her. Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov were the first at her side. The official hurried over too, followed by the policeman. “Bother!” the policeman muttered, gesturing impatiently. He felt the job was going to be troublesome.

“Pass on! Pass on!” he said to the crowd that pressed forward.

“Keep moving! Keep moving!” he said to the crowd pushing forward.

“She’s dying,” someone shouted.

“She’s dying,” someone shouted.

“She’s gone out of her mind,” said another.

“She’s lost her mind,” said another.

“Lord have mercy upon us,” said a woman, crossing herself. “Have they caught the little girl and the boy? They’re being brought back, the elder one’s got them.... Ah, the naughty imps!”

“Lord, have mercy on us,” said a woman, crossing herself. “Have they caught the little girl and the boy? They’re being brought back. The older one has them.... Oh, those naughty little devils!”

When they examined Katerina Ivanovna carefully, they saw that she had not cut herself against a stone, as Sonia thought, but that the blood that stained the pavement red was from her chest.

When they examined Katerina Ivanovna carefully, they saw that she had not cut herself on a stone, as Sonia thought. The blood staining the pavement red had come from her chest.

“I’ve seen that before,” muttered the official to Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov; “that’s consumption; the blood flows and chokes the patient. I saw the same thing with a relative of my own not long ago... nearly a pint of blood, all in a minute.... What’s to be done though? She is dying.”

“I’ve seen that before,” the official muttered to Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov. “It’s tuberculosis. The blood flows and chokes the patient. I saw the same thing happen to a relative of mine not long ago... nearly a pint of blood, all in a minute.... But what can be done? She is dying.”

“This way, this way, to my room!” Sonia implored. “I live here!... See, that house, the second from here.... Come to me, make haste,” she turned from one to the other. “Send for the doctor! Oh, dear!”

“This way, this way, to my room!” Sonia begged. “I live here!... Look, that house, the second one from here.... Come to my room, hurry,” she said, turning from one person to the other. “Send for a doctor! Oh, dear!”

Thanks to the official’s efforts, this plan was adopted, the policeman even helping to carry Katerina Ivanovna. She was carried to Sonia’s room, almost unconscious, and laid on the bed. The blood was still flowing, but she seemed to be coming to herself. Raskolnikov, Lebeziatnikov, and the official accompanied Sonia into the room and were followed by the policeman, who first drove back the crowd which followed to the very door. Polenka came in holding Kolya and Lida, who were trembling and weeping. Several persons came in too from the Kapernaumovs’ room; the landlord, a lame one-eyed man of strange appearance with whiskers and hair that stood up like a brush, his wife, a woman with an everlastingly scared expression, and several open-mouthed children with wonder-struck faces. Among these, Svidrigaïlov suddenly made his appearance. Raskolnikov looked at him with surprise, not understanding where he had come from and not having noticed him in the crowd. A doctor and priest were spoken of. The official whispered to Raskolnikov that he thought it was too late now for the doctor, but he ordered him to be sent for. Kapernaumov ran himself.

Thanks to the official’s efforts, the plan was accepted. The policeman even helped carry Katerina Ivanovna. They took her to Sonia’s room and laid her on the bed. She was almost unconscious. The blood was still flowing, but she seemed to be coming to herself. Raskolnikov, Lebeziatnikov, and the official went into the room with Sonia. The policeman followed them, after driving back the crowd that had followed them to the door. Polenka came in holding Kolya and Lida, who were trembling and crying. Several people also came in from the Kapernaumovs’ room. There was the landlord, a strange-looking man who limped and had only one eye. His whiskers and hair stood up like a brush. With him were his wife, who always looked frightened, and several children, staring open-mouthed in wonder. Svidrigaïlov suddenly appeared among them. Raskolnikov looked at him in surprise. He did not understand where Svidrigaïlov had come from and had not noticed him in the crowd. People spoke of sending for a doctor and a priest. The official whispered to Raskolnikov that he thought it was too late for the doctor. But he ordered someone to fetch him. Kapernaumov ran to get him himself.

Meanwhile Katerina Ivanovna had regained her breath. The bleeding ceased for a time. She looked with sick but intent and penetrating eyes at Sonia, who stood pale and trembling, wiping the sweat from her brow with a handkerchief. At last she asked to be raised. They sat her up on the bed, supporting her on both sides.

Meanwhile, Katerina Ivanovna caught her breath. The bleeding stopped for a while. She looked at Sonia with sick but intent, piercing eyes. Sonia stood pale and trembling, wiping the sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief. At last, Katerina Ivanovna asked to be raised. They sat her up on the bed, supporting her on both sides.

“Where are the children?” she said in a faint voice. “You’ve brought them, Polenka? Oh the sillies! Why did you run away.... Och!”

“Where are the children?” she said in a faint voice. “You brought them, Polenka? Oh, silly children! Why did you run away... Oh!”

Once more her parched lips were covered with blood. She moved her eyes, looking about her.

Once again, her dry lips were covered with blood. Her eyes moved as she looked around.

“So that’s how you live, Sonia! Never once have I been in your room.”

“So this is how you live, Sonia! I’ve never been in your room before.”

She looked at her with a face of suffering.

She looked at her with a pained expression.

“We have been your ruin, Sonia. Polenka, Lida, Kolya, come here! Well, here they are, Sonia, take them all! I hand them over to you, I’ve had enough! The ball is over.” (Cough!) “Lay me down, let me die in peace.”

“We’ve ruined your life, Sonia. Polenka, Lida, Kolya, come here! Well, here they are, Sonia. Take them all! I’m leaving them with you. I’ve had enough! The ball is over.” (Cough!) “Lay me down. Let me die in peace.”

They laid her back on the pillow.

They laid her back on the pillow.

“What, the priest? I don’t want him. You haven’t got a rouble to spare. I have no sins. God must forgive me without that. He knows how I have suffered.... And if He won’t forgive me, I don’t care!”

“What, the priest? I don’t want him. You don’t have a rouble to spare. I have no sins. God must forgive me without a priest. He knows how I’ve suffered.... And if he won’t forgive me, I don’t care!”

She sank more and more into uneasy delirium. At times she shuddered, turned her eyes from side to side, recognised everyone for a minute, but at once sank into delirium again. Her breathing was hoarse and difficult, there was a sort of rattle in her throat.

She sank deeper and deeper into an uneasy delirium. At times she shuddered and looked from side to side. She recognized everyone for a moment, but then immediately sank back into delirium. Her breathing was hoarse and difficult. There was a kind of rattle in her throat.

“I said to him, your excellency,” she ejaculated, gasping after each word. “That Amalia Ludwigovna, ah! Lida, Kolya, hands on your hips, make haste! Glissez, glissez! pas de basque! Tap with your heels, be a graceful child!

“I told him, your excellency,” she blurted out, gasping after each word. “That Amalia Ludwigovna, ah! Lida, Kolya, hands on your hips, hurry! Glissez, glissez! pas de basque! Tap your heels, be a graceful child!

“Du hast Diamanten und Perlen

“You have diamonds and pearls

“What next? That’s the thing to sing.

“What next? That’s the thing to sing about.

“Du hast die schönsten Augen Mädchen, was willst du mehr?

“You have the most beautiful eyes, girl. What more do you want?”

“What an idea! Was willst du mehr? What things the fool invents! Ah, yes!

“What an idea! What more do you want? The things that fool comes up with! Ah, yes!

“In the heat of midday in the vale of Dagestan.

“In the midday heat in the valley of Dagestan.

“Ah, how I loved it! I loved that song to distraction, Polenka! Your father, you know, used to sing it when we were engaged.... Oh, those days! Oh, that’s the thing for us to sing! How does it go? I’ve forgotten. Remind me! How was it?”

“Ah, how I loved it! I was crazy about that song, Polenka! Your father used to sing it when we were engaged, you know.... Oh, those days! Oh, that’s the song we should sing! How does it go? I’ve forgotten. Remind me! How did it go?”

She was violently excited and tried to sit up. At last, in a horribly hoarse, broken voice, she began, shrieking and gasping at every word, with a look of growing terror.

She was wildly agitated and tried to sit up. At last, she began to speak in a horribly hoarse, broken voice. She shrieked and gasped with every word, her face showing growing terror.

“In the heat of midday!... in the vale!... of Dagestan!... With lead in my breast!...”

“In the midday heat!... in the valley!... of Dagestan!... With a bullet in my chest!...”

“Your excellency!” she wailed suddenly with a heart-rending scream and a flood of tears, “protect the orphans! You have been their father’s guest... one may say aristocratic....” She started, regaining consciousness, and gazed at all with a sort of terror, but at once recognised Sonia.

“Your excellency!” she suddenly wailed with a heart-rending scream, bursting into tears. “Protect the orphans! You were their father’s guest... you might say an aristocratic guest....” She started and came to her senses. She looked around at everyone with something like terror, but immediately recognized Sonia.

“Sonia, Sonia!” she articulated softly and caressingly, as though surprised to find her there. “Sonia darling, are you here, too?”

“Sonia, Sonia!” she said softly and tenderly, as if surprised to find her there. “Sonia darling, are you here, too?”

They lifted her up again.

They lifted her up again.

“Enough! It’s over! Farewell, poor thing! I am done for! I am broken!” she cried with vindictive despair, and her head fell heavily back on the pillow.

“Enough! It’s over! Goodbye, poor thing! I’m finished! I’m broken!” she cried in bitter despair. Her head fell heavily back onto the pillow.

She sank into unconsciousness again, but this time it did not last long. Her pale, yellow, wasted face dropped back, her mouth fell open, her leg moved convulsively, she gave a deep, deep sigh and died.

She lost consciousness again, but only briefly this time. Her pale, yellow, gaunt face fell back. Her mouth opened, and her leg jerked. She gave a deep, deep sigh and died.

Sonia fell upon her, flung her arms about her, and remained motionless with her head pressed to the dead woman’s wasted bosom. Polenka threw herself at her mother’s feet, kissing them and weeping violently. Though Kolya and Lida did not understand what had happened, they had a feeling that it was something terrible; they put their hands on each other’s little shoulders, stared straight at one another and both at once opened their mouths and began screaming. They were both still in their fancy dress; one in a turban, the other in the cap with the ostrich feather.

Sonia fell upon her and threw her arms around her. She stayed there motionless, her head pressed against the dead woman’s thin chest. Polenka threw herself at her mother’s feet, kissing them and weeping uncontrollably. Kolya and Lida did not understand what had happened, but they felt that something terrible had occurred. They put their hands on each other’s little shoulders and stared straight at each other. Then they both opened their mouths and began screaming at once. They were still wearing their costumes. One wore a turban, and the other a cap with an ostrich feather.

And how did “the certificate of merit” come to be on the bed beside Katerina Ivanovna? It lay there by the pillow; Raskolnikov saw it.

And how did “the certificate of merit” end up on the bed beside Katerina Ivanovna? It was lying by the pillow. Raskolnikov saw it.

He walked away to the window. Lebeziatnikov skipped up to him.

He walked over to the window. Lebeziatnikov skipped up to him.

“She is dead,” he said.

“She is dead,” he said.

“Rodion Romanovitch, I must have two words with you,” said Svidrigaïlov, coming up to them.

“Rodion Romanovitch, I need a word with you,” said Svidrigaïlov, coming up to them.

Lebeziatnikov at once made room for him and delicately withdrew. Svidrigaïlov drew Raskolnikov further away.

Lebeziatnikov immediately made room for him and discreetly stepped away. Svidrigaïlov led Raskolnikov farther away.

“I will undertake all the arrangements, the funeral and that. You know it’s a question of money and, as I told you, I have plenty to spare. I will put those two little ones and Polenka into some good orphan asylum, and I will settle fifteen hundred roubles to be paid to each on coming of age, so that Sofya Semyonovna need have no anxiety about them. And I will pull her out of the mud too, for she is a good girl, isn’t she? So tell Avdotya Romanovna that that is how I am spending her ten thousand.”

“I’ll take care of all the arrangements, including the funeral. You know it’s a question of money, and as I told you, I have plenty to spare. I’ll place the two little ones and Polenka in a good orphanage. I’ll also set aside fifteen hundred roubles for each of them when they come of age. That way, Sofya Semyonovna won’t have to worry about them. And I’ll pull her out of the mud too, because she’s a good girl, isn’t she? So tell Avdotya Romanovna that’s how I’m spending her ten thousand.”

“What is your motive for such benevolence?” asked Raskolnikov.

“What’s your reason for being so generous?” asked Raskolnikov.

“Ah! you sceptical person!” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “I told you I had no need of that money. Won’t you admit that it’s simply done from humanity? She wasn’t ‘a louse,’ you know” (he pointed to the corner where the dead woman lay), “was she, like some old pawnbroker woman? Come, you’ll agree, is Luzhin to go on living, and doing wicked things or is she to die? And if I didn’t help them, Polenka would go the same way.”

“Ah, you skeptic!” laughed Svidrigaïlov. “I told you I didn’t need that money. Won’t you admit I did it simply out of compassion? She wasn’t ‘a louse,’ you know.” He pointed to the corner where the dead woman lay. “She wasn’t like some old pawnbroker woman, was she? Come on, you’ll agree. Should Luzhin go on living and doing wicked things, or should she die? And if I didn’t help them, Polenka would end up the same way.”

He said this with an air of a sort of gay winking slyness, keeping his eyes fixed on Raskolnikov, who turned white and cold, hearing his own phrases, spoken to Sonia. He quickly stepped back and looked wildly at Svidrigaïlov.

He said this with a cheerful, sly look, keeping his eyes fixed on Raskolnikov. Hearing his own words to Sonia, Raskolnikov turned pale and cold. He quickly stepped back and stared wildly at Svidrigaïlov.

“How do you know?” he whispered, hardly able to breathe.

“How do you know?” he whispered, hardly able to breathe.

“Why, I lodge here at Madame Resslich’s, the other side of the wall. Here is Kapernaumov, and there lives Madame Resslich, an old and devoted friend of mine. I am a neighbour.”

“Why, I live here at Madame Resslich’s, on the other side of the wall. Kapernaumov lives here, and Madame Resslich lives there. She’s an old and devoted friend of mine. I’m a neighbor.”

“You?”

“You?”

“Yes,” continued Svidrigaïlov, shaking with laughter. “I assure you on my honour, dear Rodion Romanovitch, that you have interested me enormously. I told you we should become friends, I foretold it. Well, here we have. And you will see what an accommodating person I am. You’ll see that you can get on with me!”

“Yes,” Svidrigaïlov continued, shaking with laughter. “I assure you on my honor, dear Rodion Romanovitch, that you’ve interested me enormously. I told you we would become friends. I predicted it. Well, now we have. And you’ll see how easygoing I am. You’ll see that you can get along with me!”