Crime and Punishment (55 page)

‘All I can tell you is what I myself heard, in confidence, from the deceased Marfa Petrovna. It is worth observing that, from
a legal point of view, this case was somewhat unsubstantiated. There lived – and indeed still lives – in this part of town a certain foreign woman by the name of Resslich, who is, moreover, a small-time moneylender, and also undertakes certain other kinds of business. Mr Svidrigailov had for a long time maintained certain close and mysterious contacts with this Resslich woman. She had a distant relative – a niece, I think it was – living with her; this was a girl of about fifteen, or possibly even only fourteen, a deaf-mute, and the Resslich woman had a boundless hatred for her and grudged her every bite; she even used to beat her in a quite inhuman fashion. One day the girl was found hanging in the attic. Her death was adjudged to be suicide. After the usual legal proceedings the matter was dropped, but later on someone made a statement to the police that the child had been… brutally raped by Svidrigailov. True, all this was unsubstantiated, the information came from another German woman, a prostitute whose testimony could not be relied on; in the end there was not even an official statement, thanks to the efforts and financial resources of Marfa Petrovna; it all remained a rumour. On the other hand, it is a rumour that tells us a great deal. Avdotya Romanovna, I am sure that during the time you spent in their house you also heard about what happened to their manservant Filipp, who some six years ago died of the tortures that were inflicted on him back in the days of serfdom.’

‘Oh, but what I heard was that Filipp hanged himself.’

‘Precisely so, madam, but it was the system of incessant victimizations and punishments devised and put into execution by Mr Svidrigailov that compelled, or rather predisposed him to seek a violent death at his own hand.’

‘I don't know anything about that,’ Dunya replied coldly. ‘All I heard was a very strange story to the effect that Filipp was a hypochondriac, a kind of domestic philosopher of whom the servants used to say that he'd “read too much”, and that he'd hanged himself more because of the taunts of Mr Svidrigailov than because of his beatings. During my time there he treated the servants well, and one could even have said that they liked him, though it's true that they also blamed him for Filipp's death.’

‘I observe, Avdotya Romanovna, that you seem suddenly to have developed an inclination to defend him,’ Luzhin remarked, contorting his mouth into an ambiguous smile. ‘Indeed, he is a man of cunning and seductive charm where ladies are concerned, as witness the deplorable example of Marfa Petrovna, who died so strangely. I simply wished to serve your mother and yourself with my advice, in view of his renewed and doubtless impending efforts. As for myself, I am firmly convinced that this man is going to disappear into a debtors’ prison again. Marfa Petrovna certainly never had any intention of allotting any substantial sum to him, with his children in mind, and if she did leave him something, then it was only that which was most essential, of little value and ephemeral duration, and which would not last a man of his habits even a year.’

‘Pyotr Petrovich, please, I beg of you, do let us stop talking about Mr Svidrigailov. It's making me feel depressed.’

‘He came to see me just now,’ Raskolnikov said suddenly, for the first time breaking the silence.

There were gasps all around, everyone turned to look at him. Even Pyotr Petrovich looked worried.

‘About an hour and a half ago, while I was asleep, he came in, woke me up and introduced himself,’ Raskolnikov continued. ‘He was rather jovial and relaxed, and seems fully to expect that I'll strike up some sort of friendship with him. By the way, Dunya, he seems to be absolutely desperate to have a meeting with you, and he asked me to arrange it. He has a proposition to make to you, and he told me what it was. Moreover, he informed me quite definitely that a week before her death Marfa Petrovna left you three thousand roubles in her will, and you may receive this money in the very nearest future.’

‘Thank God!’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna exclaimed, crossing herself. ‘Pray for her, Dunya, pray for her!’

‘It is indeed true,’ broke from Luzhin.

‘Yes, yes – what else did he say?’ Dunya said, hurrying her brother.

‘Then he said that he himself was not a rich man and that the whole of the estate was to go to his children, who are at present living with an aunt. Then he told me he was staying somewhere
not far from me, but as to exactly where it is I don't know, I didn't ask…’

‘But what is it, what is this proposition he wants to make Dunya?’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna asked in fear. ‘Did he tell you?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘Tell us, then.’

‘I'll tell you later.’ Raskolnikov fell silent and addressed himself to his tea.

Pyotr Petrovich took out his watch and glanced at it.

‘There is some business I must attend to, and so I shall not intrude any longer,’ he added with a slight air of pique, and began to get up from his seat.

‘Oh, don't go, Pyotr Petrovich,’ Dunya said. ‘After all, you intended to come for the whole evening. What's more, in your letter you said there was something you wanted to discuss with mother.’

‘Precisely so, Avdotya Romanovna,’ Pyotr Petrovich said, imposingly, sitting down on his chair again, but still with his hat in his hands. ‘I did indeed wish to discuss some most important points with both you and your mother. But just as there are certain proposals of Mr Svidrigailov which your brother appears unable to talk about in my presence, so there are certain most, most important matters I, too, do not wish to discuss… in the presence of others… What is more, my fundamental and most urgent request has not been obeyed…’

Luzhin made a sour face, and lapsed into sedate silence.

‘Your request that my brother not be present at our meeting was disregarded at my insistence,’ said Dunya. ‘You wrote in your letter that you had received an insult from him; I think that ought to be cleared up at once, and the two of you ought to settle your differences. And if Rodya really did insult you, then he
must
and
will
apologize to you.’

Pyotr Petrovich at once began to bully.

‘There are certain insults, Avdotya Romanovna, which with all the good will in the world it is impossible to forget. There are certain limits beyond which it is inadvisable to go as, once having crossed them, there may be no going back.’

‘That's not really what I was talking about, Pyotr Petrovich,’ Dunya broke in with some impatience. ‘What you must understand is that the whole of our future now hangs on the question of whether all this can be cleared up and settled, and as soon as possible. I will tell you right now that I cannot view the matter in any other light, and that if you value me at all then, even though it may be hard, all this nonsense must end today. I repeat: if my brother has wronged you, he will ask your forgiveness.’

‘It surprises me that you should put the matter in those terms, Avdotya Romanovna,’ Luzhin said, getting more and more irritated. ‘While I think highly of you and, as it were, adore you, at the same time I think I should make it perfectly plain that there may very well be a member of your family for whom I have not the slightest affection. In proffering my claim to the favour of your hand, I cannot at the same time assume obligations which may be incompatible…’

‘Oh, stop being so touchy, Pyotr Petrovich!’ Dunya interrupted with feeling. ‘Please try to behave like the intelligent and noble-spirited man I have always considered you, and should like to go on considering you. I have given you the great promise: I am your betrothed; please trust me, and have confidence in my power of dispassionate judgement in this matter. My taking upon myself the role of a judge is as much of a surprise to my brother as it is to you. When, after receiving your letter today, I asked him to be present at our meeting, I told him nothing of my intentions. It's like this, you see: if the two of you don't settle your differences, I shall have to choose – either you or him. That is how matters stand with regard to you both. I don't want to make the wrong choice. If I choose you, then I must break with my brother; if I choose my brother, I must break with you. Now I want to discover beyond any shadow of doubt whether he is a true brother to me or not. And as for you, what I want to find out is whether you value me, think highly of me; whether you will be a true husband to me.’

‘Avdotya Romanovna,’ Luzhin said, wincing, ‘your words are all too clear to me, and I must say that I find them positively offensive, bearing in mind the position I have the honour to hold in your regard. Quite apart from the strange and offensive
comparison you have made, setting me on a par with an… arrogant youth, you imply by your remarks the possibility of breaking the promise you gave me. “Either you or him,” you say, thereby demonstrating to me how little I mean to you… I find this more than I can tolerate, in view of the relations and… commitments that exist between us.’

‘What?’ Dunya exclaimed, blazing up. ‘I put your interests on the same level as all that has hitherto been precious to me in life, that has constituted the
integrity
of my life, and you suddenly take offence because you think I value you
too little
?’

Raskolnikov smiled a silent, caustic smile, and Razumikhin was seized with inward mirth; but Pyotr Petrovich did not accept Dunya's reply; on the contrary, with every word she spoke he was growing more and more quarrelsome and irritable, as though he were acquiring a taste for it.

‘The love you feel for your future companion in life, for your husband, must come before your love for your brother,’ he pronounced sententiously. ‘But however that may be, it is out of the question for me to be placed on an equal level with him… Even though I insisted earlier that I would not and could not explain in the presence of your brother the reasons for my coming here, I now intend to address your esteemed mother in respect of a certain salient point that affects my honour. Your son,’ he said, turning to Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, ‘yesterday, in the presence of Mr Rassudkin (er… that's right, isn't it? I'm sorry, your name has slipped my memory),’ he said, bowing amiably to Razumikhin, ‘insulted me by misrepresenting a remark I made to you in the course of a private conversation as we were having coffee together one day – namely, that there is more conjugal advantage to be obtained from marrying a girl from a poor family who has already experienced some of life's woes than there is in marrying one from a well-off background, because the former will be more likely to behave in a moral fashion. Your son deliberately exaggerated the import of my words to the point of absurdity, accusing me of evil intentions and, in my opinion, founded his attack on material drawn from your own correspondence with him. I shall consider myself fortunate, Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, if you can succeed in assuring
me that the contrary is the case, thus doing much to set my mind at rest. Will you be so good as to tell me in exactly what terms you conveyed my words in your letter to Rodion Romanovich?’

‘I don't remember,’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna said, getting confused. ‘I conveyed them in the sense in which I'd understood them. I don't know what Rodya told you… perhaps he did exaggerate.’

‘He could not have done so without your influence.’

‘Pyotr Petrovich,’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna said with dignity, ‘the proof that Dunya and I did not take your words in too negative a sense is that we are
here
.’

‘Bravo, mother!’ Dunya said, approvingly.

‘So I'm to blame there too, am I?’ Luzhin said in an offended tone.

‘Look, Pyotr Petrovich: you're forever blaming Rodion, but you yourself said something that wasn't true about him in that letter you wrote,’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna added, gaining some courage.

‘I do not recall having written anything untrue, madam.’

‘What you wrote in your letter,’ Raskolnikov said abruptly, without turning to face Luzhin, ‘was that I gave that money yesterday not to the widow of the man who had been trampled to death, as was actually the case, but to his daughter (whom I hadn't ever met until yesterday). You wrote that in order to stir up unpleasantness between me and my family, and to that purpose you added some filthy remarks about the behaviour of a girl you don't even know. It's all base lies and slander.’

‘Pardon me, sir,’ Luzhin replied, quivering with vindictive rage. ‘In my letter I expatiated on your qualities and actions solely in response to the request of your mother and sister that I describe them, as they wished to know in what state I had found you and what sort of an impression you had made on me. As for the comments you refer to, I defy you to quote one line of them that is not true – in other words, prove to me that you were not wasting your money and that that family, though unfortunate, did not contain unworthy persons.’

‘Well, if you want my opinion, you, with all your attributes
of worthiness, are not worth the little finger of the unhappy girl at whom you cast your stone.’

‘So you would allow her into the company of your mother and sister, would you?’

‘I have already done it, if you really want to know. I made her sit down with mother and Dunya when she came to visit me today.’

‘Rodya!’ Pulkheria Aleksandrovna exclaimed.

Dunya blushed; Razumikhin knit his eyebrows. Luzhin gave a superior, caustic smile.

‘I think you may judge for yourself, Avdotya Romanovna,’ he said. ‘What agreement is possible here? I hope that this matter is now concluded and fully explained, once and for all. Now, however, I shall betake myself elsewhere, in order not to disturb the continued pleasantness of this family reunion and the divulging of confidences.’ (He rose from his chair and picked up his hat.) ‘As I leave, however, I venture to suggest that in future I be spared such meetings and, as it were, compromising situations. I address a particular request to you in this regard, my dear Pulkheria Aleksandrovna, all the more so since my letter was addressed to yourself, and not to anyone else.’

Pulkheria Aleksandrovna was somewhat offended.

‘Anyone might think you were trying to take us completely in your power, Pyotr Petrovich. Dunya has told you the reason for your request not being obeyed: she acted with the best of intentions. You know, your letter to me reads as though you were giving me orders. Are we really to consider your every request a command? I for my part would like to say to you that you ought to be extremely tactful and considerate to us now, because we've given up everything and, trusting you, have come here – practically in your power already just for having done that.’