crime and punishment(罪与罚)-第65章
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last… I am glad） I will own now frankly that I noticed it in them long
ago； this idea。 Of course the merest hint only… an insinuation… but
why an insinuation even？ How dare they？ What foundation have they？
If only you knew how furious I have been。 Think only！ Simply because a
poor student； unhinged by poverty and hypochondria； on the eve of a
severe delirious illness （note that）； suspicious； vain； proud； who has
not seen a soul to speak to for six months； in rags and in boots
without soles； has to face some wretched policemen and put up with
their insolence； and the unexpected debt thrust under his nose； the
I。O。U。 presented by Tchebarov； the new paint； thirty degrees Reaumur
and a stifling atmosphere； a crowd of people； the talk about the
murder of a person where he had been just before； and all that on an
empty stomach… he might well have a fainting fit！ And that； that is
what they found it all on！ Damn them！ I understand how annoying it is；
but in your place； Rodya； I would laugh at them； or better still； spit
in their ugly faces； and spit a dozen times in all directions。 I'd hit
out in all directions； neatly too； and so I'd put an end to it。 Damn
them！ Don't be downhearted。 It's a shame！〃
〃He really has put it well； though；〃 Raskolnikov thought。
〃Damn them？ But the cross…examination again； to…morrow？〃 he said
with bitterness。 〃Must I really enter into explanations with them？ I
feel vexed as it is that I condescended to speak to Zametov
yesterday in the restaurant。。。。〃
〃Damn it！ I will go myself to Porfiry。 I will squeeze it out of him；
as one of the family： he must let me know the ins and outs of it
all！ And as for Zametov。。。〃
〃At last he sees through him！〃 thought Raskolnikov。
〃Stay！〃 cried Razumihin； seizing him by the shoulder again。 〃Stay！
you were wrong。 I have thought it out。 You are wrong！ How was that a
trap？ You say that the question about the workmen was a trap。 But if
you had done that； could you have said you had seen them painting
the flat。。。 and the workmen？ On the contrary； you would have seen
nothing； even if you had seen it。 Who would own it against himself？〃
〃If I had done that thing； I should certainly have said that I had
seen the workmen and the flat。〃 Raskolnikov answered； with
reluctance and obvious disgust。
〃But why speak against yourself？〃
〃Because only peasants； or the most inexperienced novices deny
everything flatly at examinations。 If a man is ever so little
developed and experienced； he will certainly try to admit all the
external facts that can't be avoided； but will seek other explanations
of them； will introduce some special； unexpected turn； that will
give them another significance and put them in another light。
Porfiry might well reckon that I should be sure to answer so； and
say I had seen them to give an air of truth； and then make some
explanation。〃
〃But he would have told you at once； that the workmen could not have
been there two days before； and that therefore you must have been
there on the day of the murder at eight o'clock。 And so he would
have caught you over a detail。〃
〃Yes； that is what he was reckoning on； that I should not have
time to reflect； and should be in a hurry to make the most likely
answer； and so would forget that the workmen could not have been there
two days before。〃
〃But how could you forget it？〃
〃Nothing easier。 It is in just such stupid things clever people
are most easily caught。 The more cunning a man is； the less he
suspects that he will be caught in a simple thing。 The more cunning
a man is； the simpler the trap he must be caught in。 Porfiry is not
such a fool as you think。。。。〃
〃He is a knave then； if that is so！〃
Raskolnikov could not help laughing。 But at the very moment； he
was struck by the strangeness of his own frankness； and the
eagerness with which he had made this explanation； though he had
kept up all the preceding conversation with gloomy repulsion；
obviously with a motive； from necessity。
〃I am getting a relish for certain aspects！〃 he thought to
himself。 But almost at the same instant； he became suddenly uneasy； as
though an unexpected and alarming idea had occurred to him。 His
uneasiness kept on increasing。 They had just reached the entrance to
Bakaleyev's。
〃Go in alone！〃 said Raskolnikov suddenly。 〃I will be back directly。〃
〃Where are you going？ Why； we are just here。〃
〃I can't help it。。。。 I will come in half an hour。 Tell them。〃
〃Say what you like； I will come with you。〃
〃You； too； want to torture me！〃 he screamed； with such bitter
irritation； such despair in his eyes that Razumihin's hands dropped。
He stood for some time on the steps； looking gloomily at Raskolnikov
striding rapidly away in the direction of his lodging。 At last；
gritting his teeth and clenching his fist； he swore he would squeeze
Porfiry like a lemon that very day； and went up the stairs to reassure
Pulcheria Alexandrovna； who was by now alarmed at their long absence。
When Raskolnikov got home； his hair was soaked with sweat and he was
breathing heavily。 He went rapidly up the stairs； walked into his
unlocked room and at once fastened the latch。 Then in senseless terror
he rushed to the corner； to that hole under the paper where he had put
the thing； put his hand in； and for some minutes felt carefully in the
hole； in every crack and fold of the paper。 Finding nothing； he got up
and drew a deep breath。 As he was reaching the steps of Bakaleyev's；
he suddenly fancied that something； a chain； a stud or even a bit of
paper in which they had been wrapped with the old woman's
handwriting on it； might somehow have slipped out and been lost in
some crack； and then might suddenly turn up as unexpected；
conclusive evidence against him。
He stood as though lost in thought； and a strange； humiliated；
half senseless smile strayed on his lips。 He took his cap at last
and went quietly out of the room。 His ideas were all tangled。 He
went dreamily through the gateway。
〃Here he is himself；〃 shouted a loud voice。
He raised his head。
The porter was standing at the door of his little room and was
pointing him out to a short man who looked like an artisan； wearing
a long coat and a waistcoat； and looking at a distance remarkably like
a woman。 He stooped； and his head in a greasy cap hung forward。 From
his wrinkled flabby face he looked over fifty； his little eyes were
lost in fat and they looked out grimly； sternly and discontentedly。
〃What is it？〃 Raskolnikov asked； going up to the porter。
The man stole a look at him from under his brows and he looked at
him attentively； deliberately； then he turned slowly and went out of
the gate into the street without saying a word。
〃What is it？〃 cried Raskolnikov。
〃Why； he there was asking whether a student lived here； mentioned
your name and whom you lodged with。 I saw you coming and pointed you
out and he went away。 It's funny。〃
The porter too seemed rather puzzled； but not much so； and after
wondering for a moment he turned and went back to his room。
Raskolnikov ran after the stranger； and at once caught sight of
him walking along the other side of the street with the same even；
deliberate step with his eyes fixed on the ground； as though in
meditation。 He soon overtook him； but for some time walked behind him。
At last； moving on to a level with him； he looked at his face。 The man
noticed him at once； looked at him quickly； but dropped his eyes
again； and so they walked for a minute side by side without uttering a
word。
〃You were inquiring for me。。。 of the porter？〃 Raskolnikov said at
last； but in a curiously quiet voice。
The man made no answer； he didn't even look at him。 Again they
were both silent。
〃Why do you。。。 come and ask for me。。。 and say nothing。。。。 What's the
meaning of it？〃
Raskolnikov's voice broke and he seemed unable to articulate the
words clearly。
The man raised his eyes this time and turned a gloomy sinister
look at Raskolnikov。
〃Murderer！〃 he said suddenly in a quiet but clear and distinct
voice。
Raskolnikov went on walking beside him。 His legs felt suddenly weak；
a cold shiver ran down his spine； and his heart seemed to stand
still for a moment； then suddenly began throbbing as though it were
set free。 So they walked for about a hundred paces； side by side in
silence。
The man did not look at him。
〃What do you mean。。。 what is。。。。 Who is a murderer？〃 muttered
Raskolnikov hardly audibly。
〃You are a murderer；〃 the man answered still more articulately and
emphatically； with a smile of triumphant hatred； and a
