О чем говорят каналы

– So, at least it seems that way. However… We really don’t know what to do there, that’s the thing! She came back – apparently, she was kicked out from somewhere, maybe even beaten… at least, that’s how it seems… She ran to see Chief Semen Zaharych, but he wasn’t home; he was having lunch at some other general’s place… Imagine, she went straight to where they were having lunch… to that other general, and, believe it or not, she insisted and got Chief Semen Zaharych called out, yes, apparently right from the table. Can you imagine what happened then? Of course, she was thrown out; and she says that she herself scolded him and even threw something at him. That’s possible… how come they didn’t take her? – I don’t understand!

“Not now, Sonya. Better later,” he added to calm her. “Yes, yes, better, better,” she eagerly agreed, “when you go to suffer, then you will wear it. You come to me, I will put it on you, we will pray and then go.” At that moment, someone knocked three times on the door. “Sofya Semenovna, may I come in?” came a very familiar polite voice. Sonya rushed to the door in fright. The fair-haired face of Mr. Lebezyatnikov peeked into the room. V Lebezyatnikov looked worried. “I have come to you, Sofya Semenovna. Sorry... I thought I would find you here,” he suddenly addressed Raskolnikov, “I mean, I didn’t really think… not like that… but I did think… Kateryna Ivanovna has gone mad,” he abruptly said to Sonya, ignoring Raskolnikov. Sonya gave a cry.

“No, no, right? Here, take this one, the cypress one. I have another left, the copper one, from Lizaveta. Lizaveta and I exchanged crosses—she gave me her cross, and I gave her my little icon. Now I will wear Lizaveta’s, and this one is for you. Take it… it’s mine! Mine!” she pleaded. “We will suffer together, and together we will carry the cross!” “Give it here!” Raskolnikov said. He did not want to upset her. But he immediately pulled back his hand that was reaching for the cross.

They both sat close together, sad and broken, as if after a storm they had been washed ashore on an empty bank, all alone. He looked at Sonya and felt how much of her love rested on him, and strangely, a sudden heaviness and pain filled his heart because he was loved so deeply. Yes, it was a strange and terrible feeling! As he went to Sonya, he felt that all his hope and outcome lay with her; he thought he might lay down some of his suffering, and suddenly, now that her whole heart was turned to him, he suddenly felt and realized that he had become more miserably unhappy than ever before. “Sonya,” he said, “it’s better if you don’t come to see me when I’m locked up in prison.” Sonya did not answer; she was crying. A few minutes passed. “Do you have a cross on you?” she suddenly asked, as if she had just remembered. At first, he did not understand the question.

“Oh, I will! I will!”

– Why did you scream like that? You want me to go to prison yourself, and now you’re scared? But here’s the thing: I won’t give myself up to them. I’ll still fight against them, and they won’t do anything. They don’t have real evidence. Yesterday, I was in great danger and thought I might die; today, things have gotten better. All their evidence is two-sided, meaning I can turn their accusations to my own advantage, you see? And I will; that’s what I’ve learned now… But they will probably put me in jail. If it weren’t for one thing, maybe they would have put me in today, or maybe they still will… But it’s nothing, Sonya: I’ll sit there, and then they’ll let me out… because they don’t have a single real proof, and they won’t, I swear. And with what they do have, you can’t convict a person. Well, enough… I just wanted you to know… I’ll try somehow to convince my sister and mother not to lose hope and not to be afraid… My sister seems to be provided for now… so, mother too… Well, that’s all. But be careful. Will you come visit me in jail when I’m there?

“I’ll get used to it…” he muttered gloomily and thoughtfully. “Listen,” he began after a minute, “enough crying, it’s time to talk business: I’ve come to tell you that now they’re looking for me, hunting me…” “Ah!” Sonia cried out in fear.

"Don’t be a child, Sonya," he said softly. "What fault do I have before them? Why should I go? What will I say to them? It’s all just a ghost... They themselves torment millions of people, and yet they call it virtue. They are cheats and scoundrels, Sonya! I won’t go. And what will I say? That I killed, but didn’t dare take the money, hid it under a stone?" he added with a bitter smile. "But they will laugh at me, say: ‘Fool, why didn’t you take it? Coward and fool!’ Nothing, nothing will they understand, Sonya, and they don’t deserve to understand. Why should I go? I won’t go. Don’t be a child, Sonya..." "You will wear yourself out, wear yourself out," she repeated, stretching out her hands to him in desperate pleading. "Maybe I have judged myself too harshly," he said gloomily, as if lost in thought, "Maybe I’m a man, not a louse, and I was too quick to condemn myself... I will fight." A proud smile forced its way onto his lips. "To carry such suffering! And for a whole life, a whole life..."

“How will you live, how will you live? What will you live on?” Sonya exclaimed. “Is that even possible now? How will you talk to your mother? (Oh, what will happen to them now!) But what am I saying! You have already abandoned your mother and sister. Yes, you have abandoned them, truly. Oh God!” she cried out, “He already knows all this himself! How can anyone live without a person? What will happen to you now!”

“What to do!” she exclaimed, suddenly jumping up, her eyes sparkling though they had been full of tears. “Stand up! (She grabbed him by the shoulder; he rose, looking at her almost in astonishment.) Go right now, this very minute, stand at the crossroads, bow down, first kiss the earth you have defiled, then bow to the whole world in all four directions, and say out loud to everyone: ‘I have killed!’ Then God will give you life again. Will you go? Will you go?” she asked him, trembling as if in a fit, holding both his hands tightly in hers, looking at him with a fiery gaze. He was amazed and even struck by her sudden passion. “Is this about the penal servitude, Sonia? You want me to turn myself in?” he asked gloomily. “To accept suffering and atone through it—that is what you must do.” “No! I won’t go to them, Sonia.”

“Well, what should I do now, tell me!” he asked, suddenly lifting his head and looking at her with a face horribly twisted by despair.

“Ah, Sonya!” he exclaimed irritably, about to argue with her but then fell silent with contempt. “Don’t interrupt me, Sonya! I just wanted to prove one thing to you: that devil dragged me there back then, and only afterwards did he explain to me that I had no right to go there, because I’m just as much a scoundrel as everyone else! He laughed at me, and that’s why I came to you now! Welcome your guest! If I weren’t a scoundrel, would I have come to you? Listen: when I went to that old woman, I only went… That’s the truth!” “And you killed her! You killed her!” “But how did I kill her? Is that how people kill? Is that how someone goes to kill, like I went then? Someday I’ll tell you how I walked there… Did I kill the old woman? I killed myself, not the old woman! Right then, I crushed myself, forever! And that old woman was killed by the devil, not me… Enough, enough, Sonya, enough! Leave me,” he suddenly cried out in convulsive despair, “leave me alone!” He leaned on his knees and, as if caught in a trap, clasped his head with his hands. “What suffering!” Sonya let out a painful cry.

"Killing? Do you even have the right to kill?" Sonya exclaimed, throwing up her hands.

Now I know all that... Understand me: maybe if I walked the same path again, I would never kill again. I needed to find out something else, something else pushed me on: I had to know then, and quickly, whether I was a louse like everyone else or a man? Could I cross the line or not? Would I dare to bend down and take or not? Am I a trembling creature or do I have...”

“Be silent, Sonya, I’m not laughing at all—I know very well that the devil was dragging me along. Be silent, Sonya, be silent!” he repeated gloomily and insistently. “I know everything. I have thought it all over and talked it through with myself when I lay there in the dark... I argued with myself, down to the smallest detail, and I know everything, everything! And I was so tired, so tired of all that talking! I wanted to forget it all and start fresh again, Sonya, and stop babbling! And do you really think I went like a fool, rushing headlong? I went like a clever man, and that’s what ruined me! And do you really think I didn’t know, for example, that if I started asking myself whether I had the right to have power—then, in fact, I had no right to have power. Or that if I asked: is a man a louse?—then, in fact, he is not a louse for the one who doesn’t even think about it and just goes straight ahead without questions... If I tortured myself for days asking whether Napoleon would have done it or not, I clearly felt I was not Napoleon... I endured all the torment of this endless talk, Sonya, and I wanted to shake it all off my shoulders: I wanted, Sonya, to kill without casuistry, to kill for myself, for myself alone! I didn’t want to lie, even to myself, about that! I didn’t kill to help my mother—that’s nonsense! I didn’t kill to become a benefactor of humanity by gaining money and power. Nonsense! I just killed; I killed for myself, for myself alone: and whether I would become someone’s benefactor or spend my life, like a spider, catching everyone in a web and sucking their very life juices—that didn’t matter to me at that moment! And it wasn’t money I needed most when I killed, Sonya; not so much money as something else...

– By the way, Sonya, when I was lying there in the dark and everything was appearing to me, was it the devil confusing me, hmm? – Be quiet! Don’t laugh, blasphemer, you understand nothing, nothing at all! Oh Lord! He understands nothing, nothing at all!

Raskolnikov, speaking these words, looked at Sonya but no longer cared whether she understood or not. The fever had completely taken hold of him. He was in some dark ecstasy. (Indeed, he hadn’t talked to anyone for too long!) Sonya realized that this gloomy catechism had become his faith and law. “I guessed it then, Sonya,” he continued passionately, “that power is given only to those who dare to bend down and take it. That’s the only thing, the only one: you just have to dare! At that moment, one thought came to me, for the first time in my life, which no one, never before me, had ever thought of! No one! Suddenly it became as clear as the sun to me that how come no one so far had dared, passing by all this absurdity, to simply grab everything by the tail and shake it off to hell! I… I wanted to, and I killed… I just wanted to dare, Sonya, that’s the whole reason!” “Oh, be silent, be silent!” Sonya cried out, throwing up her hands. “You have turned away from God, and God has struck you down, given you over to the devil!..”

You see, I kept asking myself: why am I so foolish, that if others are foolish and I know for sure they are foolish, why don’t I want to be smarter than them? Then I learned, Sonya, that if I wait for everyone to become wise, it will take too long… Then I learned something else: that people will never change, no one can remake them, and it’s not worth the effort! Yes, it’s true! It’s their law… A law, Sonya! It is so!.. And now I know, Sonya, that whoever is strong and powerful in mind and spirit is master over them! Whoever dares a lot, is right among them. Whoever can spit on more, is their lawmaker, and whoever dares the most, is the greatest of all! That’s how it has always been and always will be! Only the blind won’t see it!”

You were in my little room, you saw it… And do you know, Sonya, how low ceilings and cramped rooms squeeze the soul and the mind! Oh, how I hated that little room! Yet I didn’t want to leave it. Did not want to, on purpose! I didn’t go out during the day, didn’t want to work, didn’t even want to eat, just lay there. If Nastasya brought food, I ate; if not, the day passed. On purpose, out of spite, I didn’t ask! At night there was no fire, I lay in the dark, and I didn’t want to earn money even for candles. I should have studied, I sold my books; and now dust lies on my desk, on notes and notebooks, and even on my finger. I preferred to lie down and think. And I kept thinking… I had such dreams, strange, different dreams, no words for them! But only then did it start to seem to me that… No, that’s not right! I’m telling it wrong again!

“No, Sonya, this is not it!” he began again, suddenly lifting his head as if struck and stirred by a sudden turn of thoughts, “this is not it! Or rather… suppose (yes! that really is better!), suppose I am proud, envious, angry, hateful, vengeful, well… and perhaps even a bit mad. (Let everything be damned! They talked about madness before, I noticed!) I told you recently that I couldn’t support myself at the university. But do you know, maybe I could have? Mother would have sent the money to pay what was needed, and I would have earned enough for boots, clothes, and bread myself; probably! I had lessons; they offered half a rupee. Razumikhin is working! But I got angry and didn’t want to. Exactly (that’s a good word!). Then I, like a spider, crawled into my corner.

In a kind of helplessness, he dragged himself to the end of the story and bowed his head. “Oh, this is not right, not right,” Sonia exclaimed in despair, “and can it be like this… no, it’s not like that, not like that!” “You see for yourself what’s not right!.. But I honestly told the truth!” “What truth is that! Oh God!” “I only killed a louse, Sonia, a useless, nasty, harmful thing.” “That louse is a human being!” “Yes, I know it’s not just a louse,” he replied, looking at her strangely. “But actually, I’m lying, Sonia,” he added, “I’ve been lying for a long time… It’s all wrong; you are right. There are completely, completely different reasons here!.. I haven’t talked to anyone for a long time, Sonia… My head hurts a lot now.” His eyes burned with a feverish fire. He was almost beginning to rave; a restless smile wandered on his lips. Through his excited state of mind, a terrible weakness was already showing. Sonia understood how much he was suffering. Her own head was starting to spin too. And he spoke so strangely: as if something was clear, but… “but how! How! Oh God!” And she wrung her hands in despair.

So that, after burying them, I could have my own wife and children, and then leave them penniless too? Well… so I decided to take the old woman’s money and use it for my first years—without troubling my mother—to support myself at university, for the first steps after university, and to do it all on a large, radical scale, to start a completely new career and take a new, independent path… Well… that’s it… Of course, killing the old woman— that was wrong… but that’s enough!

— You’re right again, Sonya. It’s all nonsense, almost just empty talk! You see, you know that my mother has almost nothing. My sister got an education by chance and was condemned to work as a governess. All their hopes were on me alone. I studied, but I couldn’t support myself at the university and had to leave for a while. Even if I had continued, in ten or twelve years (if circumstances turned out well), I could still have hoped to become a teacher or a government clerk, earning a thousand rupees a year… (He spoke as if reciting a lesson). By that time, my mother would have wasted away from worry and grief, and I still wouldn’t have been able to comfort her. And my sister… well, things could have turned out worse for her! And what’s the point of going through life ignoring everything, forgetting about my mother, and respectfully bearing my sister’s hurt? For what?

Sonya was not amused at all. "Please speak to me plainly... without examples," she asked again, more timidly and almost in a whisper. He turned to her, looked at her sadly, and took her hands in his.

And if there was no other way, he would have strangled her so she wouldn’t even make a sound, without any hesitation! So I… came out of my thoughts… strangled her… following the example of an authority… And it was exactly like that! You find it funny? Yes, Sonya, the funniest thing here is that maybe that’s exactly how it happened…

The thing is: I once asked myself this question: what if, for example, in my place there had been a Napoleon, but he hadn’t had Toulon, or Egypt, or the crossing of Mont Blanc to start his career? Instead of all those grand and monumental things, there was just some silly old woman, a registrar, whom he would have to kill to steal money from her chest (for his career, you see). So, would he have gone through with it if there was no other way? Wouldn’t he have been bothered by the fact that it was too unmonumental and… and sinful? Well, I’m telling you, I struggled with this question for a very long time, and I felt terribly ashamed when I finally realized (suddenly, somehow) that not only would it not bother him, but it wouldn’t even occur to him that it wasn’t monumental… he wouldn’t understand at all: why be bothered by that?

“Don’t you suffer too?” Sonya cried out. That same feeling surged into his soul like a wave again, softening it for a moment once more. “Sonya, my heart is cruel, you must understand that: it explains a lot. I came because I was angry. There are others who wouldn’t have come. But I’m a coward and… a scoundrel! But… never mind! That’s not the point… Now I need to speak, but I don’t know how to start…” He stopped and fell into thought. “Ah, we are such different people!” he cried out again, “Not a match. And why, why did I come! I’ll never forgive myself for this!” “No, no, it’s good that you came!” Sonya exclaimed, “It’s better for me to know! Much better!” He looked at her with pain. “Well, it’s true!” he said, as if convincing himself, “You see, I wanted to become like Napoleon, that’s why I killed… Is it clear now?” “N-no,” Sonya whispered shyly and gently, “Just… speak, speak! I will understand, I will understand everything!” she begged him. “You’ll understand? Well, alright, let’s see!” He fell silent and thought for a long time.

"And why, why did I tell her, why did I open up to her!" he exclaimed in despair after a minute, looking at her with endless torment, "You are waiting for an explanation from me, Sonya, sitting there waiting, I can see it; but what can I say to you? You won’t understand any of it, you’ll only suffer... because of me! And now, you’re crying and hugging me again—why do you hug me? For the fact that I couldn’t bear it myself and tried to put it on someone else: ‘You suffer too, it will make me feel better!’ And can you love such a scoundrel?"

“You know, Sonya,” he said suddenly with a kind of inspiration, “you know what I’ll tell you: if only I had killed because I was hungry,” he continued, emphasizing each word and looking at her mysteriously but sincerely, “then I would be… alive now! You should know that!” “And what does it matter to you, what does it matter,” he cried out a moment later with a kind of despair, “what does it matter to you if I confessed now that I did wrong? What do you want from this foolish triumph over me? Ah, Sonya, is that why I came to you now?” Sonya wanted to say something again but kept silent. “That’s why I asked you to come with me yesterday, because you are the only one I have left.” “Where did you ask me to go?” Sonya asked timidly. “Not to steal or kill, don’t worry, not for that,” he smiled bitterly, “we are different people… And you know, Sonya, only now, only just now, I’ve understood: I asked you yesterday? And yesterday, when I asked, I didn’t even know where. I asked for only one thing, I came for only one thing: don’t leave me. Won’t you leave me, Sonya?” She squeezed his hand.

“I don’t know… I haven’t decided yet whether to take this money or not,” he said, once again lost in thought, then suddenly, as if coming to himself, he gave a quick, sharp smile. “Ah, what nonsense I just said, didn’t I?” A thought flickered through Sonya’s mind: “Is he mad?” But she immediately dismissed it: no, it was something else. She understood nothing at all!

“No, Sonya,” he interrupted hastily, “that money wasn’t the same, calm down! That money my mother sent me through a merchant, and I received it while I was sick, the very same day I handed it over... Razumikhin saw it... he even collected it for me... that money is mine, my own, truly mine.” Sonya listened in confusion, trying her best to make sense of it. “As for the money… actually, I don’t even know if there was any money at all,” he added quietly, almost thoughtfully, “I took a wallet from her neck then, a suede one... full, tightly packed... but I didn’t look inside; I must not have had time... As for the things, some cufflinks and chains — I buried all those things and the wallet under a stone in some stranger’s yard on V— Avenue, the very next morning. They’re still there now.” Sonya listened with all her might. “Well then, why… how did you say it: to rob, but you didn’t take anything?” she asked quickly, clutching at a straw.

“Is it really true, truly true! My God, how can this be true! Who would ever believe it?.. And how, how could you give away your last, and kill just to rob! Ah!..” she suddenly cried out, “the money that was given to Katerina Ivanovna… that money… My God, could it be that even that money…”

After the first, passionate and painful sympathy for the unfortunate man, the terrible idea of murder struck her again. In the changed tone of his words, she suddenly heard a murderer. She looked at him in astonishment. She still knew nothing—neither why, nor how, nor for what purpose it had happened. Now all these questions suddenly flared up in her mind. And once again, she could not believe it: "He, he is a murderer! Is that even possible?" "What is this! Where am I standing!" she said in deep confusion, as if not fully coming to herself yet, "How could you, you, have decided on this?.. What is this!" "Well, yes, to rob. Stop it, Sonya!" he answered tiredly and almost with irritation. Sonya stood as if stunned, but suddenly cried out: "You were hungry! You… to help mother? Yes?" "No, Sonya, no," he muttered, turning away and lowering his head, "I wasn’t that hungry… I really wanted to help mother, but… even that is not quite true… don’t torment me, Sonya!" Sonya threw up her hands.

"Now, at last! Oh, what am I to do now!.. Together, together!" she kept repeating as if in a trance, embracing him again. "I will go to prison with you!" Suddenly, he seemed to shudder, and that old, hateful, almost proud smile appeared on his lips. "Sonia, I might not even want to go to prison," he said. Sonia looked at him quickly.

Raskolnikov recoiled and looked at her with a sad smile: “You’re strange, Sonya,” he said, “You hug and kiss me when I told you—You don’t remember yourself.” “No, no, there is no one more miserable than you in the whole world now!” she exclaimed wildly, not hearing his words, and suddenly burst into sobs, like in a hysteria. A feeling unknown to him long ago flooded his soul like a wave and softened it all at once. He did not resist it: two tears rolled down his eyes and hung on his lashes. “You won’t leave me, Sonya?” he said, almost with hope, looking at her. “No, no; never and nowhere!” Sonya cried out, “I will follow you, I will go everywhere with you! Oh God!.. Oh, I’m so unhappy!.. And why, why didn’t I know you before! Why didn’t you come before? Oh God!” “Well, now I have come.”

He had not intended to reveal it to her like that at all, but it happened anyway. As if losing all control, she jumped up, wringing her hands, and reached the middle of the room; but quickly she turned back and sat down beside him again, almost touching him shoulder to shoulder. Suddenly, as if struck by a sharp pain, she shuddered, cried out, and fell to her knees before him, not even knowing why. “What have you done to yourself!” she exclaimed desperately, then leapt up from her knees, threw her arms around his neck, hugged him tightly, and held him close with all her strength.

“Did you guess?” he finally whispered. “Oh my God!” a terrible cry burst from her chest. She fell weakly onto the bed, face down into the pillows. But after a moment, she quickly lifted herself up, moved closer to him, grabbed both his hands, and tightly squeezed them with her slender fingers, as if in a vice. She stood motionless again, as if glued, staring into his face. With that last, desperate look, she wanted to find and hold onto some final hope. But there was no hope; no doubt remained; it was all certain! Even later, when she recalled that moment, she felt both strange and bewildered: why exactly did she see then that there was no longer any doubt? She couldn’t say, for example, that she had some kind of premonition. Yet now, just after he had told her, she suddenly felt as if she had indeed sensed it all along. “Enough, Sonia, please! Don’t torment me!” he pleaded in agony.

Almost the same thing happened now with Sonya: powerlessly, with the same fear, she looked at him for a while and suddenly, putting out her left hand, she gently, just a little, pressed her fingers against his chest and slowly began to rise from the bed, moving further and further away from him, and her gaze on him became more and more motionless. Her horror suddenly passed to him: exactly the same fear appeared on his face, and he looked at her in the same way, almost with the same smile.

And as soon as he said this, that old, familiar feeling suddenly chilled his soul again: he looked at her and suddenly, in her face, it was as if he saw Lizaveta’s face. He vividly remembered Lizaveta’s expression when he approached her then with the axe, and she moved away toward the wall, holding out her hand, with a completely childlike fear on her face, just like little children who suddenly start to be afraid of something—they stare fixedly and anxiously at the thing that frightens them, step back, and, stretching their hand forward, are ready to cry.

“Guess,” he said with the same twisted and weak smile. A shiver ran through her whole body. “You… you… why are you scaring me like this?” she said, smiling like a child. “So, I’m a big friend… since I know,” Raskolnikov continued, staring fixedly at her face, as if unable to look away, “he didn’t want to kill that Lizaveta… He… killed her by accident… He wanted to kill the old woman… when she was alone… and he came… But then Lizaveta came in… So he… killed her too.” Another terrible minute passed. They both kept looking at each other. “So, can’t you guess?” he suddenly asked, feeling as if he was about to jump from a bell tower. “N-no,” Sonya whispered softly. “Look carefully.”

– So you really did it yesterday… – she whispered with difficulty. – But how do you know? – she asked quickly, as if suddenly realizing. Sonya began to breathe heavily. Her face grew paler and paler. – I know. She was silent for a moment. – Did they find out? – she asked timidly. – No, they didn’t. – Then how do you know about it? – she asked again, almost in a whisper, after another long pause. He turned to her and looked at her very closely.

“It's nothing, Sonya. Don’t be afraid… Nonsense! Honestly, if you think about it, it’s nonsense,” he muttered, looking as if he were delirious and not in his right mind. “Why did I come to torment you, of all people?” he suddenly added, looking at her. “Really. Why? I keep asking myself that question, Sonya…” Maybe he had asked himself that a quarter of an hour ago, but now he spoke in utter helplessness, barely aware of himself and feeling a continuous trembling all over his body. “Oh, how you suffer!” she said with sympathy, gazing at him. “It’s all nonsense!.. Listen, Sonya,” he suddenly smiled, faintly and weakly, for a couple of seconds, “do you remember what I wanted to tell you yesterday?” Sonya waited anxiously. “I said, when I left, that maybe I was saying goodbye to you forever, but if I came today, I would tell you… who killed Lizaveta.” She suddenly trembled all over. “Well, here I am, to tell you.”

He could not say a word. Everything was completely different from what he had expected, and he did not understand what was happening to him now. She quietly came up to him, sat on the bed beside him, and waited, keeping her eyes fixed on him. Her heart was pounding and then stopping altogether. It became unbearable: he turned his deathly pale face towards her; his lips moved weakly, trying to say something. A wave of horror passed through Sonia’s heart. "What is wrong with you?" she repeated, slightly moving away from him.

He wanted to smile, but something weak and unfinished showed in his pale smile. He bowed his head and covered his face with his hands. And suddenly, a strange, unexpected feeling of some sharp hatred towards Sonia passed through his heart. As if surprised and frightened by this feeling himself, he suddenly raised his head and looked at her intently; but he met her anxious and painfully caring gaze; there was love in it; his hatred disappeared like a ghost. It was not that; he had mistaken one feeling for another. It only meant that the moment had come. Again, he covered his face with his hands and bowed his head down. Suddenly he went pale, stood up from the chair, looked at Sonia, and without saying a word, he moved mechanically to sit on her bed. This moment felt terribly similar, in his perception, to when he stood behind the old woman, already having freed the axe from the noose, and felt that "not a moment could be lost anymore." "What is the matter with you?" Sonia asked, terribly frightened.

She could not bear it and suddenly burst into bitter tears. He looked at her in gloomy anguish. Five minutes passed. “Well, you are right, Sonya,” he finally said quietly. Suddenly, he changed; his affectedly bold and feebly defiant tone disappeared. Even his voice weakened. “Yesterday I told you myself that I wouldn’t come to ask for forgiveness, yet I almost began by asking for it… I was talking about Luzhin and Providence for myself… It was forgiveness I was asking for, Sonya…”

Sonya looked at him with concern; something unusual sounded in his hesitant words, as if coming from afar. “I already suspected you would ask something like that,” she said, gazing at him intently. “Alright, then. But still, how is one to decide?” “Why do you ask what cannot be?” Sonya said with disgust. “So, it’s better for Luzhin to live and do his vile deeds! And you didn’t even dare to decide that?” “But I cannot know God’s will… And why do you ask what should not be asked? Why such empty questions? How could it depend on my decision? And who made me the judge here: who should live, who should not?” “As soon as God’s will gets involved, there’s nothing to be done,” Raskolnikov grumbled gloomily. “Just speak plainly about what you want!” Sonya cried out in pain, “You are hinting at something again… Surely you did not come just to torment me!”

Now then; if suddenly all this was left to your decision: who should live in this world—that is, whether Luzhin should live and continue his wickedness, or whether Katerina Ivanovna should die? How would you decide: who should die? I am asking you.

– And I thought you would shout again: “Oh, don’t say that, please stop!” – Raskolnikov laughed, but somewhat with effort. – So, silence again? – he asked after a minute. – We must talk about something, after all. I am actually interested to know how you would now solve one “question,” as Lebezyatnikov calls it. (He seemed to be getting confused.) No, really, I’m serious. Imagine, Sonia, that you knew all of Luzhin’s intentions in advance, that you also knew (or at least probably knew) that because of him, poor Katerina Ivanovna and even the children would suffer and die; and you too, along with Polenka, since you don’t consider yourselves worth much, so she is in the same situation.

"Suppose Luzhin didn’t want to now," he began, without looking at Sonya. "But if he had wanted, or if it had come into the calculations, he would have locked you up in jail — if it weren’t for me and Lebezyatnikov being here! Eh?" "Yes," she said in a weak voice, "yes!" she repeated, distracted and anxious. "And I really might not have been here! And Lebezyatnikov—he just happened to turn up by pure chance." Sonya was silent. "Well, and if you had been sent to jail, then what? Do you remember what I told you yesterday?" She did not answer again. He waited.

And she grabbed her mantilla. “Always the same thing!” Raskolnikov exclaimed irritably. “All you ever think about is them! Stay with me for a while.” “Ah… Katerina Ivanovna?” “Well, Katerina Ivanovna certainly won’t miss you; she’ll come to see you herself if she has run out of the house,” he added grumpily. “If she doesn’t find you, you will still be to blame…” Sonya, tormented by indecision, sat down on a chair. Raskolnikov was silent, looking at the ground and lost in thought.

— What would I have done without you! — she said quickly, joining him in the middle of the room. Clearly, she just wanted to say that to him as soon as possible. Then she waited. Raskolnikov went to the table and sat on the chair she had just left. She stood a couple of steps in front of him, exactly as she did yesterday. — Well, Sonya? — he said, suddenly feeling his voice tremble, — after all, it all came down to ‘social position and the habits connected with it.’ Did you understand that recently? Suffering showed clearly on her face. — Please don’t speak to me like you did yesterday! — she interrupted him. — Please, don’t start. I have suffered enough already... She quickly smiled, afraid he might not like her reproach. —I was silly to leave that place. What’s happening now? I was just about to go, but kept thinking… that maybe you would come. He told her that Amalia Ivanovna was chasing them out of the apartment and that Katerina Ivanovna had run off somewhere to look for the “truth.” — Oh, my God! — Sonya exclaimed, — let’s go quickly…

When he reached Kapernomov’s apartment, he suddenly felt weak and afraid. He paused thoughtfully before the door with a strange question: “Should I tell her who killed Lizaveta?” The question was odd, because at the same time he felt not only that he had to tell her, but that even delaying that moment, even for a while, was impossible. He didn’t yet know why it was impossible; he only knew this painful awareness of his helplessness before necessity almost crushed him. To avoid any more hesitation and suffering, he quickly opened the door and looked at Sonya from the doorstep. She was sitting, leaning on the little table, her face covered with her hands, but when she saw Raskolnikov, she quickly stood up and came to meet him, as if she had been waiting for him.

Raskolnikov was active and energetic as Sonya’s advocate against Luzhin, despite carrying so much terror and suffering in his own soul. But having endured so much that morning, he was certainly glad for the chance to change his unbearable feelings, not to mention the personal and heartfelt reason behind his urge to defend Sonya. Moreover, he had in mind—and it especially disturbed him, at times—that upcoming meeting with Sonya: he was going to tell her who had killed Lizaveta, and he foresaw terrible torment for himself, though he tried to push that feeling away with his hands. That is why, when he exclaimed as he left Katerina Ivanovna’s place, “Well, what do you say now, Sofya Semyonovna?” he was evidently still caught in some outwardly excited state of alertness, challenge, and recent victory over Luzhin. But something strange happened to him.

"Now it's my turn!" thought Raskolnikov. "Well then, Sofya Semyonovna, let's see what you have to say now!" And he set off for Sonya's apartment. IV

The tenants shouted out all sorts of things — some about going to the forest, others collecting firewood; some were finishing telling what they could about the event; others were arguing and quarrelling; while some had started singing songs…

And, throwing the very same green dreadlocks scarf over her head, the one mentioned in the late Marmeladov’s story, Katerina Ivanovna pushed her way through the chaotic, drunken crowd of tenants still gathered in the room, and with a cry and tears, rushed out into the street — with a vague but urgent purpose to immediately, by any means, seek justice somewhere, somehow. Polenka, terrified, huddled with the children in the corner by the chest, trembling as she held both little ones, waiting for her mother’s return. Amalia Ivanovna was pacing around the room, screaming, wailing, throwing whatever she could find onto the floor, and causing a scene.

“Out with them from the flats! Right now! March!” With these words, she began grabbing everything she could find belonging to Katerina Ivanovna and throwing it to the floor. Almost destroyed already, near fainting, gasping for breath, pale, Katerina Ivanovna sprang up from the bed (onto which she had fallen in exhaustion) and rushed at Amalia Ivanovna. But the struggle was too uneven; she was pushed away like a feather. “How dare you! Not only have you wickedly slandered me, but now this villain attacks me! How dare you! On the day of my husband’s funeral, you drive me out of the flat, after all I’ve done for you, onto the street, with my orphans! Where am I to go?” she cried, sobbing and struggling for breath, the poor woman. “Oh God!” she suddenly shouted, her eyes flashing, “Is there really no justice? Who else are you to protect if not us, the orphans? But wait, we shall see! There is court and truth in this world, there is—I will find it! Just wait, you wicked creature! Polechka, stay with the children, I’m going out. Wait for me, even if it’s on the street! We will see if there is truth in this world!”

Despite her triumph and justification – when the first shock and numbness passed, when she understood everything clearly – the feeling of helplessness and offense painfully tightened her heart. She began to have a breakdown. Finally, unable to bear it, she rushed out of the room and ran home. This happened almost right after Luzhin left. Amalia Ivanovna, when the glass hit her, amid loud laughter from those present, also could not handle the hangover in the stranger’s feast. Screaming like a madwoman, she rushed at Katerina Ivanovna, blaming her for everything.

He squeezed through; but the proviant man did not want to let him go so easily, with only insults: he grabbed a glass from the table, swung it, and threw it at Pyotr Petrovich; but the glass flew straight at Amalia Ivanovna. She screamed, and the proviant man, losing his balance from the swing, fell heavily under the table. Pyotr Petrovich went into his room, and half an hour later he was no longer in the house. Sonia, shy by nature, had long known that she was easier to ruin than anyone else, and that anyone could insult her with almost no punishment. But still, until that very moment, she believed it was possible to avoid trouble somehow – through caution, meekness, and obedience to everyone and everything. Her disappointment was too heavy. Of course, she could endure everything patiently and almost without complaint – even this. But in that first moment, it became too hard.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, excuse me; don’t crowd, please let me through!” he said, making his way through the crowd. “And do me a favour, don’t threaten; I assure you, nothing will happen, you won’t do anything—not a single timid person among you. On the contrary, gentlemen, you will have to answer that you used violence to cover up a criminal case. The thief has been more than exposed, and I will pursue this matter. The court is neither blind nor drunk, and they will not believe two notorious atheists, troublemakers, and free-thinkers who accuse me out of personal revenge, and who themselves confess their guilt in their foolishness... Yes, excuse me!” “To make sure you never set foot in my room again; kindly move out, and everything between us is finished! And when I think about how I struggled and explained everything to him for a whole two weeks!” “But I already told you myself, Andrei Semyonovich, the other day that I am moving out, even as you were trying to keep me here; now I just want to add that you are a fool. I wish you well in healing your mind and your weak eyesight. So please, gentlemen!”

She did not take her eyes off Raskolnikov, feeling that he was her only protection. Katerina Ivanovna was breathing heavily and hoarsely, looking utterly exhausted. The most foolish of all was Amalia Ivanovna, standing with her mouth open and understanding nothing. She only saw that Pyotr Petrovich was caught somehow. Raskolnikov tried to speak again, but he was not allowed to finish; everyone was shouting and crowding around Luzhin with curses and threats. Yet Pyotr Petrovich did not lose courage. Seeing that the case against Sonya was essentially lost, he boldly resorted to audacity.

Luzhin remained silent, wearing a contemptuous smile. However, he looked very pale. It seemed as if he was thinking hard about how to get out of the situation. Perhaps he would have gladly given up and left, but at this moment, that was nearly impossible; it would mean openly admitting the truth of the accusations against him and that he had indeed slandered Sofya Semyonovna. Moreover, the crowd, already somewhat drunk, was too agitated. Proviantsky, though not fully understanding everything, shouted the loudest and suggested some very unpleasant measures for Luzhin. But there were also sober people; they gathered from all the rooms. All three Polish women were terribly heated and shouted at him continuously: "Pane laydak!"—and muttered some threats in Polish. Sonya listened tensely but seemed not to understand everything either, as if waking from a faint.

Thus, or almost thus, Raskolnikov ended his speech, which was often interrupted by exclamations from the audience, who, however, listened very attentively. But despite all the interruptions, he spoke sharply, calmly, precisely, clearly, and firmly. His sharp voice, his convinced tone, and his stern face made a strong impression on everyone. "Yes, yes, that's true!" Lebezyatnikov confirmed enthusiastically. "It must be so, because he asked me just as soon as Sofia Semyonovna came into our room, 'Are you here? Have I seen you among Katerina Ivanovna’s guests?' He called me over to the window and quietly asked there. So, it means he absolutely needed you to be here! That’s true, it’s all true!"

First, he would have convinced my sister and mother that he was almost right in his suspicions; that he was justified in being angry because I had placed my sister and Sofya Semyonovna on the same level; that by attacking me, he was defending and preserving the honor of my sister and his fiancée. In short, through all this, he could have caused a new quarrel between me and my family and, of course, hoped once again to win their favor. Not to mention that he was seeking personal revenge on me because he had reason to believe that the honor and happiness of Sofya Semyonovna are very dear to me. That is his whole plan! That is how I understand this matter! There can be no other reason!”

Last night, in front of my mother and sister, and in his presence, I set the record straight, proving that I gave the money to Kateryna Ivanovna for the funeral, not to Sofya Semyonovna, and that on the third day I hadn’t even met Sofya Semyonovna or seen her face. I also added that this Pyotr Petrovich Luzhin, with all his so-called merits, was not worth even the little finger of Sofya Semyonovna, about whom he spoke so badly. When he asked me if I would seat Sofya Semyonovna next to my sister, I said I had already done so that very day. Angered that my mother and sister refused to believe his lies and break with me, he began to insult them intolerably. A final rupture happened, and he was thrown out of the house. All this took place last night. Now, please pay special attention: imagine if he had succeeded in proving that Sofya Semyonovna was a thief.

This man is very spiteful… On that same third day, I didn’t even know he was staying here at your place, Andrei Semenovich, and that on that very day, when we quarreled, he witnessed me handing some money to Kateryna Ivanovna, the wife of the late Mr. Marmeladov, as a friend of the deceased, for the funeral expenses. Immediately, he wrote a note to my mother, falsely informing her that I had given all the money not to Kateryna Ivanovna, but to Sofya Semyonovna, and in the most vile terms, he hinted at… at the character of Sofya Semyonovna—that is, he implied something about my relationship with her. All this, as you understand, was meant to create a rift between me and my mother and sister, making them believe I was wasting their last money, which they gave me to help.

“Now I have understood everything completely,” Raskolnikov continued, addressing Lebezyatnikov directly. “From the very beginning of this story, I suspected there was some nasty trick involved; I began to suspect it because of certain special circumstances known only to me, which I will now explain to everyone: that is the whole point! And you, Andrei Semenovich, with your valuable testimony, have made everything clear to me. I ask everyone to listen carefully: this gentleman here,”—he pointed to Luzhin—“recently proposed to a young lady, my sister, Avdotya Romanovna Raskolnikov. But when he arrived in Petersburg, on the third day, at our very first meeting, he quarreled with me, and I threw him out—there are two witnesses to that.

He seemed firm and calm. To everyone, it became clear at just one glance that he truly knew what was going on, and that the situation had reached its turning point.

“Ah, so this is where you ended up!” Lebezyatnikov shouted. “You’re lying! Call the police, and I will swear an oath! There’s just one thing I can’t understand: why did he risk stooping to such a low act? What a miserable, despicable man!” “I can explain why he risked such an act, and if needed, I will swear an oath myself!” Raskolnikov finally said in a firm voice and stepped forward.

When Andrei Semenovich finished his long-winded arguments, concluding with such a logical summary, he was terribly tired, sweat even rolling down his face. Alas, he couldn’t explain himself properly in Russian (not knowing any other language, anyway), so he seemed completely drained, even looking thinner after his lawyerly effort. Nevertheless, his speech made a tremendous impact. He spoke with such passion and conviction that apparently everyone believed him. Pyotr Petrovich felt that things were going badly. “What do I care about the silly questions that came to your mind?” he shouted. “This is not proof! You could have dreamed all this up in your sleep, that’s all! And I tell you, sir, you are lying! Lying and slandering me out of some malice, and exactly because I did not agree with your free-thinking and godless social ideas—that’s the truth!” But this trick did not help Pyotr Petrovich. On the contrary, murmurs were heard from all sides.

Then, that you wanted to avoid gratitude, so that, well, as they say: the right hand should not know… in short, something like that… Yes, many thoughts came to my mind then, so I decided to think it all over later, but still considered it improper to reveal to you that I knew the secret. However, immediately another question came to me: that Sofya Semyonovna, before noticing, might very well lose the money; that’s why I decided to come here, call her, and inform her that someone had put a hundred rupees in her pocket. And on the way, I first stopped by the Kobyljatnikov ladies’ room to deliver the “General Conclusion of Positive Method” and especially recommend the article by Piderit (and also Wagner); then I came here, and this story came up! Could I have had all these thoughts and reflections if I had not really seen that you put a hundred rupees into her pocket?

— Why? I myself do not understand that, but it is true that I am telling a fact! I am not mistaken, you are a vile, criminal man, for I remember exactly how at that moment, as I was thanking you and shaking your hand, the question instantly came to my mind: why did you secretly put the money into her pocket? Why exactly secretly? Could it be only because you wanted to hide it from me, knowing that I hold opposing views and reject private charity, which does not cure anything fundamentally? And I thought perhaps you felt ashamed to give such sums in front of me, and also, maybe, I thought, you wanted to surprise her, to astonish her when she found a hundred rupees in her pocket. (Because some benefactors love to spread their good deeds around; I know that.) Then I thought you wanted to test her, whether she would come to thank you after finding the money.

Lebezyatnikov was almost choking. From all sides came various exclamations, mostly expressing surprise; but some cries took on a threatening tone. Everyone pressed around Pyotr Petrovich. Katerina Ivanovna rushed to Lebezyatnikov. – Andrey Semenovich! I was wrong about you! Protect her! You are the only one for her! She is an orphan, God sent you! Andrey Semenovich, dear sir, father! And Katerina Ivanovna, almost forgetting what she was doing, threw herself down on her knees before him. – Nonsense! – shouted Luzhin, furious with rage, – You’re talking nonsense, sir. "Forgot, remembered, forgot" – what’s that? So, you mean I purposely set her up? Why? For what reason? What do I have to do with this…

You can imagine how I started watching — and I saw how you managed to slip it into her pocket. I saw it, I did, I swear!”

“No, it wasn’t a hallucination! Even though I was standing far away, I saw everything, everything. And though it’s really hard to make out a paper from the window — you are telling the truth — I knew for sure, because of a special reason, that it was a hundred-ruble note. When you gave Sofya Semyonovna a ten-ruble note — I saw it myself — at the same time you took the hundred-ruble note from the table (I saw that because I was standing close then, and a thought came to me immediately, so I didn’t forget that you had the note in your hand). You folded it and held it tightly all the time. Then I forgot again, but when you stood up, you moved it from your right hand to your left and almost dropped it; I remembered again, because the same thought came to me — that you wanted quietly to do her a favour without me knowing.

"How dare you lie!" he shouted boldly. "And how could you possibly see the slip of paper from standing by the window? You must be imagining things… your weak eyes playing tricks on you. You’re delirious!"

“I saw it, I saw it!” Lebezyatnikov shouted and insisted, “And though it goes against my beliefs, I’m ready right now to take any oath in court, because I saw how you quietly slipped it to her! Only I, the fool, thought you did it out of kindness! At the door, as you were saying goodbye to her, when she turned and you shook her hand with one hand, with your left hand you quietly put the paper into her pocket. I saw it! I saw it!” Luzhin turned pale.

– I’m clear in my mind, but you… you’re a fraud! How low you are! I listened carefully, I waited on purpose to understand everything, because, I admit, even now it doesn’t seem quite logical… But why did you do all this – I just don’t understand. – What have I done that’s so bad! Will you stop speaking in your nonsense riddles? Or maybe you’ve been drinking? – It’s you, the low person, who might be drinking, not me! I never drink vodka at all, because it’s against my beliefs! Imagine, he—he himself, with his own hands—gave that one hundred rupee note to Sofya Semyonovna. I saw it, I’m a witness, I would swear it! He—he! – Lebezyatnikov repeated, addressing everyone around. – Are you crazy or what, you milk-faced brat? – Luzhin shrieked. – She’s right here in front of you, clearly—she herself here right now, in front of everyone, confirmed that she got nothing from me except ten rupees. So how could I have given her anything else after that?

"So you mean that you... are a slanderer, that's what my words mean!" Lebezyatnikov said heatedly, looking at him strictly with his slightly squinting eyes. He was terribly angry. Raskolnikov stared right back at him, as if catching and weighing every word. Silence fell again. Pyotr Petrovich almost lost his composure, especially in that first moment. "If it is you who...," he began stammering, "what’s wrong with you? Are you in your right mind?"

Pyotr Petrovich glanced sideways at Raskolnikov. Their eyes met. Raskolnikov’s burning gaze seemed ready to burn him to ashes. Meanwhile, Katerina Ivanovna seemed not to hear anything else; she was hugging and kissing Sonya like a madwoman. The children also surrounded Sonya from all sides with their little hands, and Polechka—though she didn’t quite understand what was happening—seemed utterly drowned in tears, sobbing uncontrollably and hiding her swollen, tear-streaked pretty face on Sonya’s shoulder. “How low!” a loud voice suddenly sounded at the door. Pyotr Petrovich quickly looked around. “How disgraceful!” repeated Lebezyatnikov, staring intently into his eyes. Pyotr Petrovich even seemed to flinch. Everyone noticed. (Later, they remembered this.) Lebezyatnikov stepped into the room. “And you dared to make me a witness?” he said, approaching Pyotr Petrovich. “What do you mean, Andrei Semyonovich? What are you talking about?” Luzhin muttered.

Enough!”

“Madam! Madam!” he exclaimed in a commanding voice, “this matter does not concern you! No one would dare accuse you of intent or conspiracy, especially since you yourself discovered it by turning out the pocket: therefore, you suspected nothing. I am truly sorry, if I may say so, that poverty drove Sofya Semyonovna to this, but why, mademoiselle, did you not want to confess? Were you afraid of shame? Was it the first step? Perhaps you were lost? It is a clear matter; very clear indeed… But still, why drag yourself into such a situation! Gentlemen!” he addressed everyone present, “gentlemen! Regretting and, so to speak, sympathizing, I am willing to forgive, even now, despite the personal insults I have received. Let this present shame serve you as a lesson for the future, mademoiselle,” he said to Sonia, “and I will let the matter lie, and so be it, I am stopping here.

The crying of poor, consumptive, orphaned Katerina Ivanovna seemed to make a strong impression on the people. There was so much misery, so much suffering in that twisted, pain-wracked, dried-up consumptive face, in those parched, blood-stained lips, in that hoarsely yelling voice, in that broken sobbing like a child's cry, in that trusting, childlike and at the same time desperate plea for protection, that it seemed everyone felt sorry for the unfortunate woman. At least, Pyotr Petrovich immediately...

Why don’t you stand up for her? Do you believe it, too? You aren’t worth her little finger, none of you, none, none, none! Lord! Please protect her at last!

— Sonya! Sonya! I just can’t believe it! See, I don’t believe it! — cried Katerina Ivanovna, shaking her in her arms like a child, kissing her endlessly, catching her hands and kissing them as if holding on for dear life. — Of all people! What foolish people you are! Oh God! So foolish, so foolish, — she shouted, addressing everyone, — you don’t even know, you don’t know what kind of heart this is, what kind of girl she is! She will give, she will! She’d even take off her last dress, sell it, walk barefoot, and give it to you if you needed it, that’s the kind of person she is! She only got her yellow ticket because my children were starving, she sold herself for us! Ah, the late one, the late one! Ah, the late one, the late one! See? See? Here are your prayers! Lord! Please protect her, why are you all just standing there! Rodion Romanovich!

“Thief! Out of the apartment! Police, police!” Amalia Ivanovna screamed. “They should be sent to Siberia! Out!” Exclamations flew from all sides. Raskolnikov remained silent, not taking his eyes off Sonya, occasionally but quickly glancing at Luzhin. Sonya stood in the same spot, as if in a daze; she was almost not even surprised. Suddenly, her face flushed; she cried out and covered her face with her hands. “No, it wasn’t me! I didn’t take it! I don’t know!” she shouted with a heart-wrenching scream and rushed to Katerina Ivanovna. She grabbed her and held her close, as if willing to protect her with her own body.

And Katerina Ivanovna didn’t just turn out, but actually pulled out both pockets, one after the other. But from the second, the right pocket, a small piece of paper suddenly flew out, tracing a parabola in the air, and fell at Luzhin’s feet. Everyone saw it; many cried out. Pyotr Petrovich bent down, picked up the paper from the floor with two fingers, held it up for everyone to see, and unfolded it. It was a hundred-ruble credit note, folded into an eighth. Pyotr Petrovich circled his hand around, showing the note to everyone.

And Katerina Ivanovna, in a frenzy, was tugging at Luzhin, pulling him towards Sonya. “I am ready and I take responsibility… but calm down, madam, calm down! I see very well that you are quick-tempered!.. This… this… how is it? — muttered Luzhin — this should be done in the presence of the police… although, really, there are already too many witnesses… I am ready… But in any case, it is difficult for a man… because of his gender… If only with the help of Amalia Ivanovna… although, actually, things aren’t done that way… How is it?” “Whoever you want! Let whoever wants to search!” shouted Katerina Ivanovna. “Sonya, turn their pockets inside out! Look, look, vile man, here is an empty one, there used to be a handkerchief here, the pocket is empty, see! Here’s another pocket, look, look! See! See!”

I’ll run to the Governor, to the Tsar himself, to the merciful one, throw myself at his feet right now, today! I’m an orphan! They will let me in! You think they won’t? You lie, I’ll get there! I’ll get there! You thought she was meek? You relied on that? Brother, I’m quick-witted! You’ll choke! Search! Search, search, come on, search!!”

“How! Me, crazy? Am I the crazy one, you fool?” Katarina Ivanovna squealed. “You’re the fool, you crooked little judge, a low man! Sonya, Sonya will take money from him! Is Sonya a thief? She’ll even give you some, you idiot!” And Katarina Ivanovna burst into hysterical laughter. “Have you ever seen a fool?” she shouted, pointing at Luzhin in all directions. “How! And you too?” she saw the landlady. “And you too, sausage seller, confirming she’s a thief, you vile Prussian chicken leg in a crinoline! Oh, you! Oh, you! She didn’t even leave the room, and as soon as she came from you, scoundrel, she sat right here next to Rodion Romanovich! Search her! If she didn’t go anywhere, the money must be with her! Search, search, search! But if you don’t find it, then sorry, my dear, you’ll have to answer!

Grabbing the paper from Sonia, Katerina Ivanovna crumpled it in her hands and flung it straight into Luzhin's face. The wad struAnd snatching the paper from Sonya, Katerina Ivanovna crumpled it in her hands and flung it straight into Luzhin’s face. The wad hit his eye and bounced to the floor. Amalia Ivanovna rushed to pick up the money. Pyotr Petrovich grew angry. “Hold this madwoman!” he shouted. At that moment, in the doorway near Lebezyatnikov, several more faces appeared, among them the two visiting ladies peeking out.

“How dare you!” Kateryna Ivanovna suddenly cried out, coming to herself, and—like she was torn apart—rushed to Luzhin. “How! You’re accusing her of theft? Sonia, of all people? Oh, you scoundrels, scoundrels!” Then she ran to Sonia and, as if caught in a vice, “How dare you!” suddenly cried Katerina Ivanovna, coming to her senses, and—like someone who had snapped—she rushed at Luzhin. “How can you accuse her of theft? Sonia, of all people? Oh, villains, villains!” Then she ran to Sonia and, as if trapped in a vice, embraced her with her withered hands. “Sonia! How could you take ten rupees from him? Oh, foolish girl! Give it here! Give me those ten rupees right now—here!”

Sonya looked around. Everyone was staring at her with such terrible, strict, mocking, hateful faces. She glanced at Raskolnikov… he was standing against the wall, arms crossed, looking at her with a fiery gaze. “Oh Lord!” Sonya exclaimed. “Amalia Ivanovna, we must inform the police, so I kindly ask you to send for the janitor for now,” Luzhin said quietly, even gently. “Got der Barmherzige! I always knew she was a thief!” Amalia Ivanovna cried, throwing up her hands. “You always knew?” Luzhin picked up the words. “Then you must have had at least some reason to think so before. I ask you, honorable Amalia Ivanovna, to remember your words, spoken, by the way, in front of witnesses.” Suddenly, loud talking rose from all sides. Everyone started moving.

“I didn’t take anything from you,” Sonia whispered in fear. “You gave me ten rubles, here, please take them.” Sonia took a handkerchief from her pocket, found a small bundle, untied it, pulled out a ten-ruble note, and held it out to Luzhin. “And as for the remaining hundred rubles, you still won’t admit to that?” he said reproachfully and insistently, not accepting the note.

Think this over; moreover, as your true friend, I ask you (for you cannot have a better friend at this moment) to come to your senses! Otherwise, I will be merciless! Well, then?

You thanked me and even shed tears (I recount everything as it happened, first to remind you, and second, to show you that not a single detail has escaped my memory). Then I took a ten-ruble credit note from the table and gave it to you, on my behalf, for your relative’s interests and as initial assistance. Andrei Semyonovich saw all this. Afterwards, I accompanied you to the door—in that same state of embarrassment from your side—after which, alone again with Andrei Semyonovich, we spoke for about ten minutes before he left. I then returned to the table with the money, intending to count it again and set aside a special portion, as I had planned earlier. To my surprise, one one-hundred-ruble note was missing among the others. Consider this: I cannot suspect Andrei Semyonovich; I’m even ashamed to suggest such a thing. Nor could I have miscounted, because a minute before you arrived, having completed all the counts, I found the total correct. You must agree, recalling your embarrassment, your hurry to leave, and that you held your hands on the table for a while; also, considering your social standing and related habits, I was, so to speak, forced—though with horror and even against my own will—to settle on suspicion—a cruel, but—just one! I add and repeat that despite all my certainty, I know there is still some risk for me in this accusation. But, as you see, I did not drop it in vain; I stood up and I will tell you why: lady, only because of your black ingratitude! How? I invite you for the sake of your poorest relative, I offer you my modest help of ten rubles, and you repay me with such behavior! No, this is not right! A lesson is necessary.

“No? You don’t know?” Luzhin repeated, then fell silent for a few seconds. “Think carefully, Mademoiselle,” he began sternly, yet still as if persuading her gently, “discuss it—I’m willing to give you more time to consider. Now, listen carefully: if I were not completely certain, then certainly, with my experience, I would never have dared to accuse you so directly; because for such a straightforward and open, yet false or even mistaken accusation, I, in a way, am responsible myself. I know this. This morning I exchanged some five-percent banknotes amounting nominally to three thousand rubles for my own needs. The calculation is written in my wallet. When I came home, I—Andrei Semyonovich can testify—started counting the money and, after counting two thousand three hundred rubles, I hid them in the wallet, and the wallet in the side pocket of my coat. About five hundred rubles, in credit notes, remained on the table, along with three one-hundred-ruble notes. At that moment, you arrived (at my call)—and you stayed in great embarrassment the entire time after, so much so that you stood up three times during our conversation and hurried to leave, even though our talk was not yet finished. Andrei Semyonovich can confirm all of this. Probably you yourself, Mademoiselle, will not refuse to confirm and say that I summoned you, through Andrei Semyonovich, solely to speak with you about the orphaned and helpless situation of your relative, Katerina Ivanovna (whom I could not visit at her mourning), and how it would be helpful to arrange something like a subscription, lottery, or similar for her benefit.

Complete silence fell over the room. Even the crying children stopped. Sonya stood deathly pale, looking at Luzhin and could not answer. It was as if she still did not understand. A few seconds passed. “Well then, how is it?” Luzhin asked, staring at her intently. “I don’t know… I don’t know anything…” Sonya finally spoke in a weak voice.

“Excuse me for interrupting, but the matter is quite important,” remarked Pyotr Petrovich, speaking generally and not addressing anyone in particular. “I’m even glad it’s in front of an audience. Amalia Ivanovna, I humbly ask you, as the lady of the house, to pay attention to my forthcoming conversation with Sofya Ivanovna. Sofya Ivanovna,” he continued, turning to the extremely surprised and already frightened Sonya, “immediately after your visit, a government-issued one hundred-ruble banknote belonging to me disappeared from my table in the room of my friend Andrei Semyonovich Lebezyatnikov. If, by any chance, you know where it is and can tell us, I assure you on my honour—witnesses included—the matter will end there. Otherwise, I will be forced to take very serious measures, and then… you’ll have no one to blame but yourself!”

A minute later, Lebezyatnikov appeared at the door; he didn’t enter the room but stopped with a special kind of curiosity, almost surprise, listening intently but seeming unable to make sense of what was going on for a while.