Other
Read books online Ā» Other Ā» Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky (e books for reading .TXT) šŸ“–

Book online Ā«Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky (e books for reading .TXT) šŸ“–Ā». Author Fyodor Dostoevsky



1 ... 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 ... 201
Go to page:
day or two to see Raskolnikov, mentioning that ā€œhe would like to consult with him, that there were things they must talk over.ā ā€Šā ā€¦ā€

This conversation took place in the passage on the stairs. SvidrigaĆÆlov looked intently at Raskolnikov and suddenly, after a brief pause, dropping his voice, asked: ā€œBut how is it, Rodion Romanovitch; you donā€™t seem yourself? You look and you listen, but you donā€™t seem to understand. Cheer up! Weā€™ll talk things over; I am only sorry, Iā€™ve so much to do of my own business and other peopleā€™s. Ah, Rodion Romanovitch,ā€ he added suddenly, ā€œwhat all men need is fresh air, fresh airā ā€Šā ā€¦ more than anything!ā€

He moved to one side to make way for the priest and server, who were coming up the stairs. They had come for the requiem service. By SvidrigaĆÆlovā€™s orders it was sung twice a day punctually. SvidrigaĆÆlov went his way. Raskolnikov stood still a moment, thought, and followed the priest into Soniaā€™s room. He stood at the door. They began quietly, slowly and mournfully singing the service. From his childhood the thought of death and the presence of death had something oppressive and mysteriously awful; and it was long since he had heard the requiem service. And there was something else here as well, too awful and disturbing. He looked at the children: they were all kneeling by the coffin; Polenka was weeping. Behind them Sonia prayed, softly and, as it were, timidly weeping.

ā€œThese last two days she hasnā€™t said a word to me, she hasnā€™t glanced at me,ā€ Raskolnikov thought suddenly. The sunlight was bright in the room; the incense rose in clouds; the priest read, ā€œGive rest, oh Lord.ā ā€Šā ā€¦ā€ Raskolnikov stayed all through the service. As he blessed them and took his leave, the priest looked round strangely. After the service, Raskolnikov went up to Sonia. She took both his hands and let her head sink on his shoulder. This slight friendly gesture bewildered Raskolnikov. It seemed strange to him that there was no trace of repugnance, no trace of disgust, no tremor in her hand. It was the furthest limit of self-abnegation, at least so he interpreted it.

Sonia said nothing. Raskolnikov pressed her hand and went out. He felt very miserable. If it had been possible to escape to some solitude, he would have thought himself lucky, even if he had to spend his whole life there. But although he had almost always been by himself of late, he had never been able to feel alone. Sometimes he walked out of the town on to the high road, once he had even reached a little wood, but the lonelier the place was, the more he seemed to be aware of an uneasy presence near him. It did not frighten him, but greatly annoyed him, so that he made haste to return to the town, to mingle with the crowd, to enter restaurants and taverns, to walk in busy thoroughfares. There he felt easier and even more solitary. One day at dusk he sat for an hour listening to songs in a tavern and he remembered that he positively enjoyed it. But at last he had suddenly felt the same uneasiness again, as though his conscience smote him. ā€œHere I sit listening to singing, is that what I ought to be doing?ā€ he thought. Yet he felt at once that that was not the only cause of his uneasiness; there was something requiring immediate decision, but it was something he could not clearly understand or put into words. It was a hopeless tangle. ā€œNo, better the struggle again! Better Porfiry againā ā€Šā ā€¦ or SvidrigaĆÆlov.ā ā€Šā ā€¦ Better some challenge againā ā€Šā ā€¦ some attack. Yes, yes!ā€ he thought. He went out of the tavern and rushed away almost at a run. The thought of Dounia and his mother suddenly reduced him almost to a panic. That night he woke up before morning among some bushes in Krestovsky Island, trembling all over with fever; he walked home, and it was early morning when he arrived. After some hoursā€™ sleep the fever left him, but he woke up late, two oā€™clock in the afternoon.

He remembered that Katerina Ivanovnaā€™s funeral had been fixed for that day, and was glad that he was not present at it. Nastasya brought him some food; he ate and drank with appetite, almost with greediness. His head was fresher and he was calmer than he had been for the last three days. He even felt a passing wonder at his previous attacks of panic.

The door opened and Razumihin came in.

ā€œAh, heā€™s eating, then heā€™s not ill,ā€ said Razumihin. He took a chair and sat down at the table opposite Raskolnikov.

He was troubled and did not attempt to conceal it. He spoke with evident annoyance, but without hurry or raising his voice. He looked as though he had some special fixed determination.

ā€œListen,ā€ he began resolutely. ā€œAs far as I am concerned, you may all go to hell, but from what I see, itā€™s clear to me that I canā€™t make head or tail of it; please donā€™t think Iā€™ve come to ask you questions. I donā€™t want to know, hang it! If you begin telling me your secrets, I dare say I shouldnā€™t stay to listen, I should go away cursing. I have only come to find out once for all whether itā€™s a fact that you are mad? There is a conviction in the air that you are mad or very nearly so. I admit Iā€™ve been disposed to that opinion myself, judging from your stupid, repulsive and quite inexplicable actions, and from your recent behavior to your mother and sister. Only a monster or a madman could treat them as you have; so you must be mad.ā€

ā€œWhen did you see them last?ā€

ā€œJust now. Havenā€™t you seen them since then? What have you been doing with yourself? Tell me, please. Iā€™ve been to you three times already. Your mother has been seriously ill since yesterday. She had made up her mind to come to

1 ... 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 ... 201
Go to page:

Free ebook Ā«Crime and Punishment Fyodor Dostoevsky (e books for reading .TXT) šŸ“–Ā» - read online now

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment