‘I am always fond of children, very fond of them,’ laughed Svidrigaïlov. ‘I can tell you one curious instance of it. The first day I came here I visited various haunts, after seven years I simply rushed at them. You probably notice that I am not in a hurry to renew acquaintance with my old friends. I shall do without them as long as I can. Do you know, when I was with Marfa Petrovna in the country, I was haunted by the thought of these places where anyone who knows his way about can find a great deal. Yes, upon my soul! The peasants have vodka, the educated young people, shut out from activity, waste themselves in impossible dreams and visions and are crippled by theories; Jews have sprung up and are amassing money, and all the rest give themselves up to debauchery. From the first hour the town reeked of its fa-miliar odours. I chanced to be in a frightful den—I like my dens dirty—it was a dance, so called, and there was a cancan such as I never saw in my day. Yes, there you have progress. All of a sudden I saw a little girl of thirteen, nicely dressed, dancing with a specialist in that line, with another one vis-à-vis. Her mother was sitting on a chair by the wall. You can’t fancy what a cancan that was! The girl was ashamed, blushed, at last felt insulted, and began to cry. Her partner
seized her and began whirling her round and performing before her; everyone laughed and—I like your public, even the cancan public—they laughed and shouted, ‘Serves her right— serves her right! Shouldn’t bring children!’ Well, it’s not my business whether that consoling reflection was logical or not. I at once fixed on my plan, sat down by the mother, and began by saying that I too was a stranger and that people here were ill-bred and that they couldn’t distin-guish decent folks and treat them with respect, gave her to understand that I had plenty of money, offered to take them home in my carriage. I took them home and got to know them. They were lodging in a miserable little hole and had only just arrived from the country. She told me that she and her daughter could only regard my acquaintance as an hon-our. I found out that they had nothing of their own and had come to town upon some legal business. I proffered my ser-vices and money. I learnt that they had gone to the dancing saloon by mistake, believing that it was a genuine danc-ing class. I offered to assist in the young girl’s education in French and dancing. My offer was accepted with enthusi-asm as an honour—and we are still friendly…. If you like, we’ll go and see them, only not just now.’
‘Stop! Enough of your vile, nasty anecdotes, depraved vile, sensual man!’
‘Schiller, you are a regular Schiller! O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher? But you know I shall tell you these things on pur-pose, for the pleasure of hearing your outcries!’
‘I dare say. I can see I am ridiculous myself,’ muttered Raskolnikov angrily.
Svidrigaïlov laughed heartily; finally he called Philip, paid his bill, and began getting up.
‘I say, but I am drunk, assez causé ’ he said. ‘It’s been a pleasure.’
‘I should rather think it must be a pleasure!’ cried Raskol-nikov, getting up. ‘No doubt it is a pleasure for a worn-out profligate to describe such adventures with a monstrous project of the same sort in his mind—especially under such circumstances and to such a man as me…. It’s stimulating!’
‘Well, if you come to that,’ Svidrigaïlov answered, scruti-nising Raskolnikov with some surprise, ‘if you come to that, you are a thorough cynic yourself. You’ve plenty to make you so, anyway. You can understand a great deal … and you can do a great deal too. But enough. I sincerely regret not having had more talk with you, but I shan’t lose sight of you…. Only wait a bit.’
Svidrigaïlov walked out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov walked out after him. Svidrigaïlov was not however very drunk, the wine had affected him for a moment, but it was passing off every minute. He was preoccupied with some-thing of importance and was frowning. He was apparently excited and uneasy in anticipation of something. His man-ner to Raskolnikov had changed during the last few minutes, and he was ruder and more sneering every moment. Ras-kolnikov noticed all this, and he too was uneasy. He became very suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and resolved to follow him.
They came out on to the pavement.
‘You go to the right, and I to the left, or if you like, the other way. Only adieu, mon plaisir may we meet again.’
And he walked to the right towards the Hay Market.
Chapter V
Raskolnikov walked after him.
‘What’s this?’ cried Svidrigaïlov turning round, ‘I thought I said …’
‘It means that I am not going to lose sight of you now.’ ‘What?’
Both stood still and gazed at one another, as though measuring their strength.
‘From all your half tipsy stories,’ Raskolnikov observed harshly, ‘I am positive that you have not given up your de-signs on my sister, but are pursuing them more actively than ever. I have learnt that my sister received a letter this morn-ing. You have hardly been able to sit still all this time…. You may have unearthed a wife on the way, but that means nothing. I should like to make certain myself.’
Raskolnikov could hardly have said himself what he wanted and of what he wished to make certain.
‘Upon my word! I’ll call the police!’ ‘Call away!’
Again they stood for a minute facing each other. At last Svidrigaïlov’s face changed. Having satisfied himself that Raskolnikov was not frightened at his threat, he assumed a mirthful and friendly air.
‘What a fellow! I purposely refrained from referring to your affair, though I am devoured by curiosity. It’s a fantas-
tic affair. I’ve put it off till another time, but you’re enough to rouse the dead…. Well, let us go, only I warn you be-forehand I am only going home for a moment, to get some money; then I shall lock up the flat, take a cab and go to spend the evening at the Islands. Now, now are you going to follow me?’
‘I’m coming to your lodgings, not to see you but Sofya Semyonovna, to say I’m sorry not to have been at the fu-neral.’
‘That’s as you like, but Sofya Semyonovna is not at home. She has taken the three children to an old lady of high rank, the patroness of some orphan asylums, whom I used to know years ago. I charmed the old lady by depositing a sum of money with her to provide for the three children of Kat-erina Ivanovna and subscribing to the institution as well. I told her too the story of Sofya Semyonovna in full detail, suppressing nothing. It produced an indescribable effect on her. That’s why Sofya Semyonovna has been invited to call to-day at the X. Hotel where the lady is staying for the time.’
‘No matter, I’ll come all the same.’
‘As you like, it’s nothing to me, but I won’t come with you; here we are at home. By the way, I am convinced that you regard me with suspicion just because I have shown such delicacy and have not so far troubled you with ques-tions … you understand? It struck you as extraordinary; I don’t mind betting it’s that. Well, it teaches one to show del-icacy!’
‘And to listen at doors!’
‘Ah, that’s it, is it?’ laughed Svidrigaïlov. ‘Yes, I should have been surprised if you had let that pass after all that has happened. Ha-ha! Though I did understand something of the pranks you had been up to and were telling Sofya Semyonovna about, what was the meaning of it? Perhaps I am quite behind the times and can’t understand. For goodness’ sake, explain it, my dear boy. Expound the lat-est theories!’
‘You couldn’t have heard anything. You’re making it all up!’
‘But I’m not talking about that (though I did hear some-thing). No, I’m talking of the way you keep sighing and groaning now. The Schiller in you is in revolt every moment, and now you tell me not to listen at doors. If that’s how you feel, go and inform the police that you had this mischance: you made a little mistake in your theory. But if you are con-vinced that one mustn’t listen at doors, but one may murder old women at one’s pleasure, you’d better be off to America and make haste. Run, young man! There may still be time. I’m speaking sincerely. Haven’t you the money? I’ll give you the fare.’
‘I’m not thinking of that at all,’ Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust.
‘I understand (but don’t put yourself out, don’t discuss it if you don’t want to). I understand the questions you are worrying over— moral ones, aren’t they? Duties of citizen and man? Lay them all aside. They are nothing to you now, ha-ha! You’ll say you are still a man and a citizen. If so you ought not to have got into this coil. It’s no use taking up a
job you are not fit for. Well, you’d better shoot yourself, or don’t you want to?’
‘You seem trying to enrage me, to make me leave you.’ ‘What a queer fellow! But here we are. Welcome to the
staircase. You see, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, there is no one at home. Don’t you believe me? Ask Kaper-naumov. She leaves the key with him.
