Part 3 · Chapter 1

Raskolnikov got up and plopped down on the sofa. He weakly waved his hand at Razumihin, trying to shut down the stream of warm, rambling comfort he was giving his mom and sister. He grabbed both of their hands and just stared at them for a minute, not saying anything.

His mom looked worried; his face showed a really intense, almost crazy emotion. Pulcheria Alexandrovna started crying.

Avdotya Romanovna was pale, and her hand was shaking in his.

"Go home... with him," he said in a shaky voice, nodding at Razumihin, "good-bye till tomorrow; tomorrow everything... How long have you been here?"

"This evening, Rodya," Pulcheria Alexandrovna answered, "the train was seriously late. But, Rodya, I’m not leaving you now! I’m spending the night here, close to you..."

"Don’t torture me!" he snapped with a frustrated gesture.

"I’m staying with him," Razumihin declared, "I’m not leaving him for a second. Forget about all the visitors! My uncle’s running things there."

"How can I ever thank you!"

Pulcheria Alexandrovna started to say, squeezing Razumihin’s hands again, but Raskolnikov cut her off.

"I can’t have it! I can’t have it!" he repeated, irritated, "don’t stress me out! Enough, go away... I can’t handle it!"

"Come on, Mom, come out of the room for a minute at least," Dounia whispered, clearly upset; "we’re upsetting him, it’s obvious."

"Can’t I just look at him after three years?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna sobbed.

"Wait," he stopped them again, "you guys keep interrupting, and my thoughts are all messed up... Have you heard from Luzhin?"

"No, Rodya, but he already knows we’re here. We heard that Pyotr Petrovitch was so nice as to visit you today," Pulcheria Alexandrovna added somewhat timidly.

"Yeah... he was so nice... Dounia, I told Luzhin I’d throw him downstairs and tell him to go to hell..."

"Rodya, what are you saying! Do you really mean that...?"

Pulcheria Alexandrovna started, worried, but she stopped, looking at Dounia.

Avdotya Romanovna was watching her brother closely, waiting to hear what he's going to say next. They’d both heard about the fight from Nastasya, as much as she’d been able to understand and report it, and were really confused and anxious.

"Dounia," Raskolnikov continued with a visible effort, "I don’t want that marriage, so tomorrow you absolutely have to refuse Luzhin, so we never hear his name again."

"Good heavens!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.

"Brother, think about what you’re saying!"

Avdotya Romanovna began urgently, but then stopped herself.

"You’ll probably tired; you'll probably not able to talk right now," she added gently.

"You think I’m crazy? No... You’re marrying Luzhin for my sake. But I won’t let you make that sacrifice. And so write a letter tomorrow, refusing him... Let me read it in the morning, and that’s the end of it!"

"I can’t do that!" the girl protested, offended, "what gives you the right..."

"Dounia, you’re being hasty too, be quiet, tomorrow... don’t you see..." the mother interjected, distressed.

"Better come away!"

"He’s lost it," Razumihin slurred, tipsy, "or how would he dare! Tomorrow all this craziness will be over... today he definitely drove him off. That's for sure. And Luzhin got angry, too... He was trying to show off his smarts here and then he left looking defeated..."

"So it’s true?" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna.

"Good-bye till tomorrow, brother," said Dounia compassionately - "let’s go, Mom... Good-bye, Rodya."

"Do you hear, sister," he repeated after them, making one last effort, "I’m not crazy; this marriage is - a disgrace. Let me act like a loser, but you mustn’t... one is enough... and even though I’m a loser, I wouldn’t own a sister like you. It’s me or Luzhin! Go now..."

"You’re totally losing it! Like, a total dictator!" Razumihin yelled, but Raskolnikov didn’t - and probably couldn’t - answer.

He flopped onto the couch and turned away, completely drained. Avdotya Romanovna watched Razumihin with interest; her dark eyes flashed, and Razumihin practically jumped at her look.

Pulcheria Alexandrovna stood there, totally overwhelmed.

"There’s no way I’m going," she whispered desperately to Razumihin. "I’m staying here... I’ll get Dounia home safe."

"You’re gonna mess everything up," Razumihin answered in the same whisper, losing his patience - "just come out on the stairs, for real. Nastasya, give us some light! Seriously," he went on, almost muttering on the stairs - "he was practically beating the doctor and me this afternoon! Get it?"

"Even the doctor gave up and left to not make things worse. I stayed downstairs, keeping an eye on him, but he got dressed and slipped off. And he’s gonna do it again if you bug him, tonight, and he’s gonna hurt himself..."

"What are you saying?"

"And Avdotya Romanovna absolutely can’t be left in those rooms without you. Just think where you’re staying! That jerk Pyotr Petrovitch couldn’t find you better digs... But you know I’ve had a few drinks, and that’s why I’m... ranting; don’t mind it..."

"But I’ll go talk to the landlady here," Pulcheria Alexandrovna insisted, "I’ll beg her to find some place for Dounia and me for the night. I can’t leave him like that, I can’t!"

This conversation happened on the landing, right outside the landlady’s door. Nastasya lit them from the step below. Razumihin was super hyped up.

Half an hour earlier, while he was bringing Raskolnikov home, he's definitely talked too much, but he knew it, and his head was clear, even after all the drinks he’s had. Now he was almost ecstatic, and everything he’s drunk felt like it was rushing to his head.

He stood with the two ladies, grabbing both by their hands, persuading them, and giving them reasons with blunt honesty, and practically squeezed their hands like a vise with almost every word. He stared at Avdotya Romanovna without a thought for manners.

They sometimes pulled their hands away, but he didn’t even notice what was wrong, and just pulled them closer. If they’d told him to jump off the staircase, he would’ve done it without hesitation, just to help them.

Though Pulcheria Alexandrovna thought the young man was a bit too weird and pinched her hand too much, she was so worried about Rodya that she saw his presence as a good thing, and didn’t want to notice all his quirks.

But even though Avdotya Romanovna shared her worry, and wasn't easily scared, she couldn’t help but stare at the intense light in his eyes with wonder and almost alarm.

It was only the trust inspired by Nastasya’s story about her brother’s strange friend that stopped her from trying to run away and convincing her mother to do the same. She realized, too, that running away was probably impossible now.

Ten minutes later, though, she felt a lot better; it was just like Razumihin to show his true colors right away, no matter what mood he was in, so people quickly figured out what kind of guy they were dealing with.

"You seriously can’t go to the landlady, that’s totally crazy!" he exclaimed. "But if you stay, even though he’s your son, you’ll freak him out, and then who knows what's gonna happen!"

Listen, here’s what I’ll do: Nastasya will hang out with him now, and I’ll walk you both home; you can’t be wandering around alone, Petersburg is a seriously sketchy place at night... But whatever!

I’ll sprint right back here in like, fifteen minutes, I swear, and I’ll tell you how he’s doing, if he’s asleep, all that. Then, listen!

Then I’ll zoom home - I've got a bunch of friends there, all hammered - I’ll grab Zossimov - he’s the doctor looking after him, he's there too, but he's not drunk; seriously, he never gets drunk!

I’ll practically drag him to Rodya, and then to you, so you get two reports in one hour - from the doctor, you know, a real doctor, not just my word! If something’s wrong, I swear I’ll bring you right here, but if it’s okay, you just go to bed.

And I’ll crash here tonight, in the hallway, he won’t even hear me, and I’ll tell Zossimov to sleep at the landlady’s, just in case. Which is better for him: you or the doctor? So go home then! But the landlady is a no-go; it's fine for me, but not for you; she wouldnn't take you, because she’s...

"she’s kind of a space - she’d be jealous of Avdotya Romanovna and of you, too, if you want to know... especially Avdotya Romanovna. She’s a completely unpredictable character! But I’m a fool, too!... Never mind! Come on! Do you trust me? Seriously, do you trust me or not?"

"Let’s go, Mom," said Avdotya Romanovna, "he’s gonna do what he promised. He already saved Rodya, and if the doctor agrees to spend the night here, what could be better?"

"You see, you... you... get me, because you’re an angel!"

Razumihin cried excitedly, "let’s go! Nastasya! Head upstairs and sit with him, bring a light; I’ll be there in fifteen minutes."

Even though Pulcheria Alexandrovna wasn’t totally convinced, she didn’t argue. Razumihin gave an arm to each of them and led them down the stairs. He still made her nervous, like he was capable and well-meaning - but was he really able to keep his promise? He seemed kinda out of it...

"Oh, I see you think I’m out of it!"

Razumihin interrupted her thoughts, guessing what she was thinking as he strolled along the sidewalk with huge steps, so the two ladies could barely keep up, a fact he didn't notice.

"Seriously? That’s... I’m drunk, yeah, but it's not from booze; it’s seeing you that’s messed with my head... But don’t worry about it! Don’t even pay attention; I’m rambling, I’m not worthy of you... I’m totally unworthy of you!"

Once I get you home, I’ll just dump a couple of buckets of water over my head in the gutter here, and then I’ll be good... If only you knew how much I love you both! Don’t laugh, and don’t be mad! You can be mad at anyone, but not at me! I’m his friend, and so I’m your friend, too, I want to be...

"I had a feeling... Last year there was a moment... though it wasn’t really a feeling, like you just fell from heaven. And I don’t think I’ll sleep all night... Zossimov was worried a while back that he might go crazy... that’s why he shouldn’t get stressed."

"What did you say?" cried the mother.

"Did the doctor really say that?" asked Avdotya Romanovna, looking worried.

"Yeah, but that’s not how it is, not even close. He gave him some medicine, a powder - I saw it - and then you showing up here... Ugh! It would’ve been way better if you’d come tomorrow. It’s a good thing we left. And in about an hour, Zossimov himself will fill you in on everything."

He’s not wasted! And I’m not gonna be wasted either... And what made me get so messed up? Because they dragged me into an argument, seriously! I’m done arguing, I swear. They talk such garbage! I almost threw down! I left my uncle in charge. Can you believe it?

"They’re all about no individuality - that's what they’re into! Not being themselves, being as different from themselves as possible. That's what they think is progress. If only their nonsense was their own, but it’s not..."

"Listen!" Pulcheria Alexandrovna interrupted nervously, but it just made things worse.

"What do you think? Razumihin shouted, louder than ever, "you think I’m attacking them for talking nonsense? Not a bit! I love it when they talk nonsense. That’s what makes us human! Through mistakes, you find the truth! I’m a man because I mess up!"

You don't find any truth without making, like, fourteen mistakes, maybe even a hundred and fourteen. And that's kinda cool, too. But we can’t even make our own mistakes! Talk nonsense, but talk your nonsense, and I'll kiss you for it.

Messing up on your own is better than getting it right someone else’s way. The first way, you’re a person; the second, you’re just a robot. Truth won’t hide from you, but life can get super cramped. There are examples. And what are we doing now?

"In science, development, thinking, inventing, goals, freedom, judgment, experience, everything, everything, everything - we’re still in elementary school. We’re living off other people’s ideas; it’s what we’re used to! Am I right, am I right?" cried Razumihin, grabbing and shaking the ladies’ hands.

"Oh my gosh, I don’t know," cried poor Pulcheria Alexandrovna.

"Yeah, yeah... though I don’t agree with you on everything ," added Avdotya Romanovna seriously, and then she gasped because he squeezed her hand so hard.

"Yeah, you’re saying yes... well after that you... you..." he cried, totally losing it, "you’re a fountain of goodness, purity, sense... and perfection. Give me your hand... you give me yours, too!"

I want to kiss your hands right now, on my knees..." and he dropped to his knees on the sidewalk, luckily deserted at that moment."

"Stop it, please, what are you doing?" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna, totally freaked out.

"Get up, get up!" said Dounia laughing, though she was also upset.

"Not for anything until I kiss your hands! That's it! Enough! I’ll get up, and we’ll go! I’m a total loser, I’m unworthy of you, and I’m drunk... and I’m embarrassed. I’m not worthy to love you, but to show you respect is the duty of every person who isn't a complete animal! And I've done that..."

Here are your apartments, and for that alone Rodya was right to kick your Pyotr Petrovitch out... How dare he! How dare he put you in such a place! It’s a disgrace! Do you know the kind of people they let in here? And you’re his fiancée! You're engaged? Yes?

"Well, then, let me tell you, your fiancé is a jerk."

"Excuse me, Mr. Razumihin, you’re forgetting..." Pulcheria Alexandrovna began.

"Seriously, yeah, I messed up, I’m totally embarrassed," Razumihin rushed to apologize.

"But... but you can’t be mad at me for being real! I’m just being honest, not because... um, um! That would be lame; not because I'm... okay, never mind why, I can’t even say. But we all saw today when he showed up that dude is not one of us."

"Not because he got his hair styled, not because he was trying so hard to be funny, but because he’s a spy, a hustler, a cheapskate, and a clown. It's obvious. You think he’s smart? Nope, he's a total goofball. And is he a match for you? No way! Do you hear me, ladies?"

he suddenly stopped on the stairs to their rooms, "Even though all my friends are wasted, they’re all good people. And yeah, we talk a lot of junk, and I do too, but we'll figure things out eventually, because we’re on the right track, while Pyotr Petrovitch... isn't."

Even though I'm throwing shade right now, I respect them all... except Zametov, I kinda like him, he's just a puppy, and Zossimov, that bull, because he’s an honest dude and knows what he’s doing. But enough, it’s all said and done. Is it forgiven? Cool, let’s go.

"I know this hallway, there was a huge drama here at Number three... Where are you guys? What number? Eight? Okay, lock up for the night. Don't let anyone in. I’m back with news in fifteen minutes, and Zossimov’s with me in half an hour, you’ll see! Later, I’m outta here!"

"Oh my gosh, Dounia, what's going to happen?" Pulcheria Alexandrovna said to her daughter, really worried and freaked out.

"Don’t stress, Mom," Dounia said, taking off her hat and coat. "God sent this guy to help us, even though he just came from a party. We can count on him, I promise. And everything he’s done for Rodya..."

"Ugh. Mom, what if he doesn’t even come? How could I leave Rodya?... And it was supposed to be so different, our meeting! He was so grumpy, like he didn't even want to see us..."

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"No, that's not it, Mom. You didn’t see, you were crying the whole time. He’s totally off his game because of being sick - that’s why."

"Oh, that sickness! What’s going to happen, what’s going to happen?"

And how he talked to you, Dounia! her mother said, looking at her daughter nervously, trying to read her thoughts, and already feeling a little better because Dounia was sticking up for her brother, which meant she’s already forgiven him. I’m sure he’ll feel differently tomorrow, she added, probing further.

"And I’m sure he’ll say the same thing tomorrow... about that," Avdotya Romanovna said finally.

And, of course, there was no getting around that, because that was a topic Pulcheria Alexandrovna was afraid to even bring up. Dounia went over and kissed her mother. The latter warmly hugged her without saying a word.

Then she sat down to wait anxiously for Razumihin’s return, nervously watching her daughter who paced the room with her arms crossed, lost in thought.

This pacing when she was thinking was a habit of Avdotya Romanovna’s, and her mother was always worried about interrupting her daughter’s mood at those moments.

Razumihin, honestly, was being ridiculous with his sudden, drunken crush on Avdotya Romanovna.

But aside from his weird behavior, a lot of people would have understood if they’d seen her, especially at that moment when she was pacing back and forth with her arms crossed, deep in thought and kind of bummed out.

Avdotya Romanovna was seriously good-looking; she was tall, really well-proportioned, strong, and totally self-reliant - you could see it in every move she made, but it didn't take away from her grace and softness. Her face was a little like her brother's, but she was genuinely beautiful.

Her hair was dark brown, a bit lighter than his; there was a proud spark in her almost-black eyes, but also a look of incredible kindness. She was pale, but it was a healthy kind of pale; her face glowed with freshness and energy.

Her mouth was smallish; her bottom lip jutted out a little, and so did her chin - it was the only flaw in her gorgeous face, but it gave her a uniquely individual and almost bossy expression.

Her face was usually serious and thoughtful, not bubbly; but wow, how well smiles, how well youthful, lighthearted, carefree laughter suited her!

It was totally natural that a big, warm, open-hearted, honest, genuine guy like Razumihin, who’s never seen anyone like her and wasn’t exactly sober, would lose his mind instantly. Plus, by chance, he saw Dounia looking amazing because of her love for her brother and her happiness at seeing him.

Then he saw her bottom lip tremble with anger at her brother’s rude, cruel, and ungrateful words - and his fate was sealed.

He’s also been telling the truth when he blurted out while drunk on the stairs that Praskovya Pavlovna, Raskolnikov’s quirky landlady, would be jealous of Pulcheria Alexandrovna and Avdotya Romanovna too.

Even though Pulcheria Alexandrovna was forty-three, her face still showed hints of her former beauty; she looked way younger than she was, which is usually the case with women who keep their spirits calm, are sensitive, and have a genuinely kind heart as they get older.

Parenthetically, keeping all that is the only way to stay beautiful as you age. Her hair had started to turn gray and thin, there had been wrinkles around her eyes for a while, and her cheeks were hollow from worry and grief, but she still had a handsome face.

She was like Dounia, just twenty years older, but without the jutting lower lip. Pulcheria Alexandrovna was emotional, but not overly sentimental; timid and yielding, but only to a certain point.

She could give in and accept a lot, even things that went against her beliefs, but there was a line drawn by honesty, principles, and her deepest convictions that nothing would make her cross.

Exactly twenty minutes after Razumihin left, there were two quiet but hurried knocks at the door: he was back.

"I don’t have time to come in," he hurried to say when the door opened. "He’s sleeping like a log, soundly, quietly, and God grant he sleeps for ten hours. Nastasya’s with him; I told her not to leave until I got back."

"Now I’m getting Zossimov, he’s going to tell you everything, and then you should go to bed; I can see you’re too tired to do anything..." And he bolted down the hallway.

"What a really capable and... devoted young man!" Pulcheria Alexandrovna said, totally delighted.

"He seems like a great guy!" Avdotya Romanovna replied, warming up a little, and started pacing again.

It was almost an hour later when they heard footsteps in the hallway and another knock at the door. Both women waited this time, totally relying on Razumihin’s promise; he’s actually managed to get Zossimov there.

Zossimov had agreed right away to ditch the party to head over to Raskolnikov’s, but he came reluctantly and with a lot of suspicion about seeing the ladies, not trusting Razumihin, who was totally hyped up. But his ego got a boost instantly; he realized they were really counting on him like a guru.

He stayed for just ten minutes and totally convinced and calmed Pulcheria Alexandrovna down. He spoke with a lot of sympathy, but with the serious and professional vibe of a young doctor at a big consultation.

He didn’t say a word about anything else and didn’t seem interested in getting personal with the two ladies. Noticing Avdotya Romanovna’s dazzling beauty when he first walked in, he tried not to even look at her during the visit and only talked to Pulcheria Alexandrovna.

All of this gave him a major ego boost. He said that he thought the patient was doing really well at the moment.

According to his observations, the patient’s illness was partly because of his bad living situation over the last few months, but it also had a moral cause, "like, a product of a bunch of different things - material issues, stress, worries, certain ideas... and stuff."

Noticing that Avdotya Romanovna was paying close attention to his words, Zossimov went on and on about this.

When Pulcheria Alexandrovna nervously and cautiously asked if there was "any chance of insanity," he replied with a calm and honest smile that his words had been exaggerated; that for sure the patient had some fixed idea, something close to an obsession - he, Zossimov, was now studying this fascinating area of medicine - but that they needed to remember that until today the patient had been delirious and..

. and that hopefully his family’s presence would help him recover and take his mind off things, "if only we can avoid any new shocks," he added meaningfully.

Then he got up, said goodbye with an impressive and friendly bow, while blessings, warm thanks, and pleas were showered upon him, and Avdotya Romanovna spontaneously offered her hand. He left feeling really good about the visit and even better about himself.

"We’ll talk tomorrow; go to bed now!" Razumihin said in conclusion, following Zossimov out. "I’ll be there tomorrow morning as early as possible with my report."

"That’s a cute girl, Avdotya Romanovna," remarked Zossimov, almost drooling as they both came out into the street.

"Cute? You said cute?" Razumihin roared and he jumped at Zossimov and grabbed him by the throat. "You ever dare... Do you get it? Do you get it?" he shouted, shaking him by the collar and squeezing him against the wall. "Do you hear me?"

"Let me go, you drunk!" said Zossimov, struggling and when he let him go, he stared at him and burst out laughing.

Razumihin stood facing him, looking gloomy and serious.

"Of course, I’m an idiot," he muttered, looking as dark as a storm cloud, "but still... so are you."

"No, brother, not really. I’m not dreaming up any crazy schemes."

They walked along in silence and only when they were close to Raskolnikov’s place, Razumihin broke the silence, looking really worried.

"Listen," he said, "you’re a great guy, but you’re also a bit of a mess, and I know it. You’re unreliable, and honestly, kind of a slob. You're weak, jumpy, and totally ruled by your impulses."

You’re getting lazy and can’t resist anything - and I call that dirty because it leads you straight into trouble. You’ve let yourself go so much, I don’t know how you’re still a good, even a dedicated doctor. You - a doctor - sleep on a super comfy bed and get up at night for your patients!

In a few years, you won't even get up for your patients... But forget it, that's not the point! You’re spending tonight in the landlady’s apartment here. (I had to work hard to convince her! And I’ll be in the kitchen. So, here’s your chance to get to know her better... It’s not what you think!

"There’s absolutely nothing like that, seriously...!"

"But I’m not thinking!" "See? You’re modest, quiet, shy - a real virtue!"

"But she’s sighing and practically melting, like wax! Save me from her, I swear! She’s seriously cute... I’ll repay you, I’ll do anything."

Zossimov laughed harder than ever.

"Well, you’re smitten! But what am I supposed to do with her?"

"It won’t be a big deal, I promise. Just talk to her, anything you want, as long as you sit next to her and chat. You’re a doctor, too; try diagnosing her with something. I swear you won’t regret it. She has a piano, and you know, I can strum a little."

"I have this song, a real Russian one: ‘I’m crying my eyes out.’ She loves the real deal - and well, it all started with that song. Now you’re a regular performer, a star, a Rubinstein... I promise, you won’t regret it!"

"But have you made any promises? Something official? A marriage proposal, maybe?"

"Nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing like that! Besides, she’s not that type... Tchebarov tried that."

"Then you should ditch her!"

"But I can’t just ditch her like that!"

"Why not? I mean if there is nothing anyway"

"Well, I just can’t! There’s a connection here, brother."

"Then why did you charm her?"

"I didn’t charm her; maybe I was charmed myself in my craziness. But she won’t care who it is, as long as someone sits beside her and sighs... I can’t explain the situation, brother..."

look, you’re good at math, and you’re working on it now... start teaching her calculus; I’m serious, I’m not kidding, it’s the same to her. She’ll look at you and sigh for a whole year.

I talked to her for two whole days about the Prussian parliament (you gotta talk about something) - she just sighed and got all sweaty! And don’t talk about love - she’s shy to the point of being hysterical - but just let her see you can’t stay away - that’s enough.

"It’s super comfy; you’re totally at home, you can read, sit, lie around, write. You might even risk a kiss, if you’re careful."

"But why would I want her?"

"Ugh, I can’t make you get it! Seriously, you guys are totally meant to be! I’m always thinking about you two!... You’ll figure it out eventually! Does it even matter when, right? There's a serious comfort zone thing happening here, bro - ugh! And it’s not just that!"

This is like, the ultimate safe space - a chill spot, a cozy hideaway, the center of everything, the core of the universe, the foundation of the world, the best pancakes ever, seriously good fish pies, a relaxing evening with tea, soft sighs, warm blankets, and a radiator to snuggle up to - like you’re practically asleep, but you’re still awake

- you’re getting the best of both worlds! Okay, whatever, bro, I'm rambling, it's bedtime! Listen. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night, so I’ll just go peek at him. But it’s all good. Don’t stress, though, you could totally check in, too.

"But if you see anything weird - like, if he’s out of it or has a fever - wake me up, ASAP. But he’s totally fine... "