Part 5 · Chapter 1

The next morning after that awkward chat with Dounia and her mom hit Pyotr Petrovitch hard. It was seriously unpleasant, but he slowly started to accept that what he'd thought was crazy just yesterday was actually real. He’s been stewing over his bruised ego all night.

When he got out of bed, Pyotr Petrovitch checked himself out in the mirror. He was worried he looked jaundiced. But so far, he seemed fine, and looking at his face - which had gotten a bit chubbier lately - he briefly felt hopeful. Maybe he’d find another girl, and maybe even a better one.

But then reality hit him, and he turned away and spit, which made Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov, his young friend, smirk. Pyotr Petrovitch noticed that smirk and immediately added it to his list of reasons not to trust Andrey.

He's been keeping a running tally of things he didn’t like about him lately. His anger flared up again when he realized he shouldn't have told Andrey about the interview. That was another mistake, a result of his temper and impulsiveness.

Plus, the whole morning was a disaster. Even his legal case in the senate hit a snag. He was especially frustrated with the owner of the apartment he’d rented, planning for his upcoming wedding and paying to have it renovated.

The owner, a wealthy German businessman, refused to back out of the contract, demanding the full penalty, even though Pyotr Petrovitch was essentially giving him a practically brand-new apartment.

The furniture people wouldn't return a single ruble of the money he's already paid for the furniture, which hadn't even been moved in yet.

"Am I getting married just for the furniture?" he muttered, grinding his teeth, but a flicker of desperate hope still sparked within him.

"Is it really all over? Is there no point in trying again?"

Thinking about Dounia sent a wave of intense longing through his heart. He was in serious pain at that moment, and if he could have instantly wished Raskolnikov away, he would have.

"My bad for not just throwing them money," he thought, trudging back to Lebeziatnikov’s room.

"Why was I such a cheapskate? It was false economy! I was trying to make them dependent on me, make them see me as their savior, and look at this! Seriously?"

If I’d spent fifteen hundred rubles on a trousseau, gifts, knick-knacks, a dressing table, jewelry, fabric - all that stuff from Knopp’s and the English shop - my position would be better, stronger! They wouldn’t have been able to turn me down so easily!

"They’re the type who would feel obligated to return the money and gifts if they broke things off, and it would be hard for them to do it! Their conscience would bug them: how can we dump a guy who’s been so generous and thoughtful?... Ugh, I messed up."

Grinding his teeth again, Pyotr Petrovitch called himself an idiot - but he didn’t say it out loud, of course.

He stormed back home, way angrier than before. Seeing all the fuss for Katerina Ivanovna’s funeral dinner made him curious. He’d heard about it yesterday; he even thought he’d been invited, but he was so caught up in his own stuff that he hadn’t paid attention.

Asking Madame Lippevechsel, who was super busy setting the table while Katerina Ivanovna was at the cemetery, he learned it was going to be a huge deal. Everyone who lived there was invited, even people who’d never met the deceased.

Apparently, even Andrey Semyonovitch Lebeziatnikov was coming, despite his previous beef with Katerina Ivanovna. And get this - he, Pyotr Petrovitch, wasn’t just invited, he was expected! He was apparently the most important lodger.

Amalia Ivanovna had been invited with a ton of ceremony, despite the recent drama, so she was really into the prep work, rocking a brand-new black silk outfit and totally feeling herself.

All of this gave Pyotr Petrovitch an idea, and he headed into his room, or rather Lebeziatnikov’s, looking kinda lost in thought. He’s found out that Raskolnikov was on the guest list.

Andrey Semyonovitch had been home all morning. Pyotr Petrovitch's attitude toward this guy was weird, though maybe it made sense. Pyotr Petrovitch had looked down on and even hated him ever since he’d come to stay with him, but he also seemed kinda nervous around him.

He hadn’t moved in with him when he arrived in Petersburg just because he was cheap, though that was probably his main reason.

He’d heard about Andrey Semyonovitch, who had once been his ward, as a major young progressive who was making a big deal in some cool circles - the kind of stuff that was basically legend back home. It had impressed Pyotr Petrovitch.

These powerful, all-knowing groups who looked down on everyone and exposed them had always made him feel uneasy, in a vague but definite way. He couldn’t even begin to figure out what they were all about.

He, like everyone else, had heard there were, especially in Petersburg, progressives, nihilists, and stuff like that, and, like a lot of people, he’d exaggerated and twisted what those words meant to an absurd degree.

What he’s feared most for years was being publicly humiliated - that was the main reason for his constant anxiety about moving his business to Petersburg. He was afraid in the way little kids sometimes panic.

Years ago, when he was just starting out, he’d run into two cases where important people in the province, his patrons, had been cruelly exposed. One ended in a huge scandal for the person attacked, and the other almost resulted in serious trouble.

So, Pyotr Petrovitch planned to look into this as soon as he got to Petersburg and, if needed, to get ahead of things by trying to get on good terms with "the younger crowd."

He was counting on Andrey Semyonovitch for this, and before visiting Raskolnikov, he’d managed to pick up a few trendy phrases. He soon realized Andrey Semyonovitch was a pretty clueless, basic guy, but that didn't reassure Pyotr Petrovitch at all.

Even if he was sure all the progressives were as clueless as him, it wouldn’t have eased his worries. All the theories, the ideas, the systems that Andrey Semyonovitch bombarded him with held no interest. He had his own goal - he just wanted to figure out what was going on here.

Did these people have any power? Did he have anything to worry about from them? Would they expose any of his ventures? And what exactly were they attacking now? Could he somehow make friends with them and get them on his side if they were really powerful? Was that the right move or not?

Couldn't he gain something through them? In fact, hundreds of questions popped into his head.

Andrey Semyonovitch was a pale, sickly little guy with strangely blond mutton-chop whiskers that he was really proud of. He was a clerk and almost always had some kind of eye problem.

He was pretty soft-hearted, but confident and sometimes super conceited when he talked, which was just awkward, especially considering how small he was. He was one of the lodgers most respected by Amalia Ivanovna, because he didn’t get drunk and paid his rent on time.

Andrey Semyonovitch was really kind of dumb; he jumped on the bandwagon of progress and "the younger crowd" out of enthusiasm.

He was one of the many, varied group of dullards, half-formed guys, conceited, half-educated show-offs, who latch onto whatever’s popular just to make it lame, and who mess up every cause they support, even if they mean well.

Even though Lebeziatnikov was super chill, he was starting to not like Pyotr Petrovitch too. This was happening on both sides without them even realizing it.

No matter how simple Andrey Semyonovitch was, he started to feel like Pyotr Petrovitch was playing him and secretly disliking him, thinking, "He’s just not one of us."

He'd tried explaining Fourier's system and Darwin's theory to him, but lately, Pyotr Petrovitch started listening with a sarcastic tone, even being rude.

The thing was, he was starting to instinctively suspect that Lebeziatnikov wasn’t just a clueless simpleton, but maybe a liar, too, and that he didn’t have any real connections, even within his own circle, but just picked things up secondhand; and that he probably didn’t even know much about his own propaganda work, because he was a total mess.

What a person to show anyone up!

It's worth noting that Pyotr Petrovitch had, during those ten days, eagerly accepted the weirdest compliments from Andrey Semyonovitch; he hadn’t protested, for example, when Andrey Semyonovitch praised him for being willing to contribute to starting a new "commune," or to skip christening his future kids, or to go along with it if Dounia got a boyfriend just a month after getting married, and so on.

Pyotr Petrovitch loved hearing himself praised so much that he didn't even look down on those kinds of compliments when they were attributed to him.

That morning, Pyotr Petrovitch had to cash out some five-percent bonds and now he sat down at the table and counted over stacks of bills. Andrey Semyonovitch, who hardly ever had any money, wandered around the room pretending to look at all those bank notes with indifference and even disgust.

Nothing would have convinced Pyotr Petrovitch that Andrey Semyonovitch could really look at the money without feeling something, and the latter, for his part, kept thinking bitterly that Pyotr Petrovitch was capable of thinking that about him and was, maybe, glad for the chance to tease his younger friend by reminding him of his lack of cash and the huge difference between them.

He found him totally distracted and grumpy, even though Andrey Semyonovitch was going on and on about his favorite topic: starting a new special "commune. Short comments that dropped from Pyotr Petrovitch between clicking the beads on the abacus showed clear and disrespectful sarcasm.

But the "humane" Andrey Semyonovitch chalked up Pyotr Petrovitch’s bad mood to his recent fight with Dounia and was dying to talk about that topic. He had something progressive to say about the situation that would definitely comfort his worthy friend and "couldn’t fail" to help him grow.

"There’s some kind of party being planned at that... at the widow’s, right?" Pyotr Petrovitch asked suddenly, interrupting Andrey Semyonovitch at the most interesting part.

"What? You don’t know? I was telling you last night what I think about all those ceremonies. And she invited you too, I heard. You were talking to her yesterday..."

I would never have expected that clueless fool would have spent all the money she got from that other fool, Raskolnikov, on this party. I was surprised just now as I walked through the preparations there, the wines! A bunch of people are invited.

It’s over the top! continued Pyotr Petrovitch, who seemed to have a reason for keeping the conversation going.

"Wait? You’re saying I’m invited too? When was that? I don’t remember. But I’m not going. Why would I? I only said a word to her in passing yesterday about the possibility of her getting a year’s salary as a destitute widow of a government clerk. She invited me for that, right? He-he-he!"

"I’m not going either," said Lebeziatnikov.

"Seriously? After you beat her up? You might want to think twice, he-he!"

"Who’s causing drama?" Lebeziatnikov asked, totally flustered and blushing.

"You, dude! You thrashed Katerina Ivanovna like, a month ago. I heard about it yesterday... so, that’s what your beliefs are all about... and you weren’t exactly nailing the ‘women’s rights’ thing, he-he-he!"

Pyotr Petrovitch, like he was feeling better, went back to clicking his rosary beads.

"It’s all fake news and drama! Lebeziatnikov shouted, always nervous about anyone bringing up the topic. "It wasn’t like that at all, it was totally different. You’re hearing it wrong; it’s a total lie. I was just defending myself. She came at me with her nails, ripped out all my whiskers..."

"It’s totally okay for anyone to defend themselves, and I never let anyone use violence on me, ever, it’s a power trip. What was I supposed to do? I just pushed her back."

"He-he-he!" Luzhin kept laughing, kinda mean.

"You’re acting like this because you’re already in a bad mood... but it’s ridiculous and has nothing, nothing at all to do with women’s rights! You’re missing the point; I used to think, you know, if women are as strong as men (like they say now) there should be equality in that too."

Of course, I realized later that the question shouldn’t even come up, because there shouldn’t be fighting, and in the future, fighting will be unthinkable... and it’s kinda weird to even look for equality in fighting.

I’m not that clueless... though, of course, there is fighting... but there won't be later, just right now there is... ugh, you make my head spin! It’s not because of that that I’m not going. I’m not going on principle, not to be part of that revolting memorial dinner thing, that’s why!

"Though, of course, you could go just to laugh... I’m bummed there won’t be any priests there. I’d totally go if there were."

"So you’d sit at someone else’s table and diss it and the people who invited you? Seriously?"

"Not diss it, protest it. I’d do it for a good reason. I could indirectly help spread the word and enlighten people. It’s a man’s duty to work towards enlightenment and spreading the word, and the harsher, maybe, the better. I could drop a seed, an idea... And something could grow from that seed."

How would I be disrespecting them? They might be offended at first, but later they’d see I did them a favor.

You know, Terebyeva (who’s in the community now) got slammed because when she left her family and.. . dedicated.. .

herself, she wrote to her parents that she wasn’t going to live a conventional life and was starting a free marriage, and it was said that that was too harsh, that she should have spared them and written something nicer.

I think that’s all nonsense and there’s no need to be soft; on the contrary, what’s needed is protest. Varents had been married for seven years, she abandoned her two kids, she told her husband straight out in a letter: ‘I’ve realized I can’t be happy with you.

I can never forgive you for hiding from me that there’s another way to organize society through communities. I only just learned about it from a great-hearted man to whom I’ve given myself and with whom I’m establishing a community. I’m being honest because I think it’s dishonest to deceive you.

"Do what you think is best. Don’t expect me back, you’re too late. I hope you’ll be happy.’ That’s how letters like that should be written!"

"Is that Terebyeva the one you said has had a third free marriage?"

"Seriously, it’s only the second time! But what if it was the fourth, what if it was the fifteenth? That’s crazy! And if I ever regretted my parents dying, it's now. I sometimes think if they were still around, I’d totally call them out! I would’ve done something just to get their attention..."

"I would’ve blown their minds! I’m actually bummed there's no one around to do that!"

"To shock! Haha! Whatever you say," Pyotr Petrovitch jumped in, "but tell me this; do you know the dead man’s daughter, that cute little girl? It’s true what they say about her, right?"

"So what? I mean, honestly, I think it’s just how women are. Why not? Distinguons. In our current society, it’s not totally normal because it’s forced, but in the future, it will be perfectly normal because it’s a choice."

Even now, she was right: she was hurting, and that was her thing, her power, which she had every right to use. Of course, in the future, there won’t be a need for power, but her role will have another meaning, something logical and fitting.

"As for Sofya Semyonovna herself, I think her actions were a huge protest against how society is set up, and I totally respect her for it; I'm genuinely happy when I think about her!"

"I heard you got her kicked out of her apartment."

Lebeziatnikov was furious.

"That’s another lie!" he shouted. "It wasn’t like that at all! That was all Katerina Ivanovna’s imagination, she just didn’t get it! And I never made a move on Sofya Semyonovna! I was just helping her grow, totally on the level, trying to inspire her to speak out..."

"All I wanted was her protest, and Sofya Semyonovna couldn't stay there anyway!"

"Have you asked her to join your group?"

"You keep laughing, and it’s really inappropriate, let me tell you. You don’t get it! There’s no such role in a group. The group is set up so there aren’t roles."

In a group, those kinds of roles totally change, and what’s dumb here makes total sense there, what’s unnatural now is perfectly normal in the group. It all depends on the environment. It’s all about the environment, and honestly, people are basically nothing.

And I’m still cool with Sofya Semyonovna to this day, which proves she never thought I’d done anything wrong. I’m trying to get her to join the group now, but on totally different terms. What are you laughing at? We’re trying to build our own group, a special one, on a bigger scale.

"We’re even more convinced now. We’re rejecting even more! And meanwhile, I’m still helping Sofya Semyonovna grow. She has an amazing, amazing character!"

"And you’re taking advantage of her good character, huh? He-he!"

"No, no! Seriously, no!"

"Oh, seriously? He-he-he! That’s a weird thing to say!"

"Believe me! Why would I hide it? Honestly, I find it strange myself how shy, pure, and modern she is with me!"

"And you, of course, are helping her grow... he-he! trying to convince her that all that modesty is pointless?"

"Not at all, not at all! How roughly, how clueless - excuse me for saying so - do you misunderstand the word ‘grow’? Good heavens, how... basic you still are!"

We’re fighting for women's freedom, and all you can think about is...setting aside questions of purity and feminine modesty as useless and even harmful. I fully accept her purity with me, because it’s her choice.

"Of course, if she told me she wanted me, I’d feel super lucky, because I really like the girl; but as it is, no one has ever treated her with more respect or dignity than I have... I’m just waiting in hopes!"

"Seriously, you should get her something. I bet you haven’t even thought about it."

"You’re missing the point, like I’m already told! Okay, yeah, she’s in a tricky spot, but that’s a whole other thing. A completely different thing! You just hate her. You see something you think is awful, and you refuse to see things from her perspective."

You don't even realize what a character she is! I'm just bummed she’s pretty much given up on reading and borrowing books lately. I used to lend her stuff.

I’m also sad that even though she's got so much energy and will to argue - which she’s already shown - she lacks confidence, you know, independence, to shake off certain biases and silly ideas.

But she gets some things, like the whole hand-kissing thing - that it’s disrespectful for a guy to kiss a woman’s hand, because it implies inequality. We had a whole debate about it, and I explained it to her. She listened intently to a breakdown of worker’s unions in France, too.

"Now I’m explaining the idea of visiting someone's room in the future."

"And what’s that about?"

"We had a debate recently about this: Does a member of the community have the right to just pop into another member’s room, man or woman, whenever they want... and we decided, yeah, they do!"

"That could be awkward, haha!"

Lebeziatnikov was seriously annoyed.

"You’re always thinking of something nasty," he snapped, disgusted.

"Ugh! I’m so frustrated that when I was explaining our system, I brought up personal privacy too early! It’s always a roadblock for people like you, they make fun of it before they even understand it. And they’re so proud of it, too! Ugh!"

I’ve always said that question shouldn’t be tackled by a newbie until they’re totally on board with the system. And tell me, seriously, what’s so shameful about sewers? I’d be the first to jump in and clean one out.

"And it's not about sacrificing yourself; it's just work, honest, useful work that’s just as good as any other, and even better than the work of a Raphael or a Pushkin, because it’s more helpful."

"And more honorable, more honorable, haha!"

"What do you mean ‘more honorable’? I don’t get that kind of language to describe what people do. ‘More honorable,’ ‘nobler’ - all that old-fashioned stuff I reject. Anything useful to humanity is honorable. I only understand one word: useful! Go ahead and snicker all you want, that’s the truth!"

Pyotr Petrovitch laughed loudly. He’s just finished counting the money and was putting it away, but he left some bills on the table. The "sewer question" had already been a source of arguments between them.

What was ridiculous was that it genuinely angered Lebeziatnikov, while it amused Luzhin, and right now he especially wanted to rile up his young friend.

"It’s just your bad mood yesterday that’s making you so grumpy and annoying," blurted out Lebeziatnikov, who, despite his "independence" and his "protests," didn’t dare to directly challenge Pyotr Petrovitch and still treated him with some of the respect he’s always shown.

"You better not tell me this," Pyotr Petrovitch interrupted, annoyed, "do you... or are you actually friendly enough with that young woman to ask her to come in here for a minute? I think they’ve all come back from the cemetery... I heard footsteps... I want to see her, that young woman."

"Why?" Lebeziatnikov asked, surprised.

"Oh, I want to. I’m leaving here today or tomorrow, so I wanted to talk to her about... You can be here for it, actually. It’s better that you are, you know. Because there’s no telling what you might imagine."

"I’m not going to imagine anything. I just asked, and if you have something to say to her, it’s easy to call her in. I’m going straight there, and you can be sure I won’t be in your way."

Five minutes later, Lebeziatnikov came in with Sonia. She looked super surprised and shy, like always. She was always like that in new situations, always nervous around new people - she’s been that way since she was a kid, and it’s even worse now...

Pyotr Petrovitch greeted her "nicely and friendly," but with a playful vibe that he thought was perfect for someone like him, someone with his status, when dealing with a young and interesting girl like her. He quickly tried to "reassure" her and made her sit down facing him at the table.

Sonia sat down, looked around - at Lebeziatnikov, at the notes on the table, and then back at Pyotr Petrovitch. Her eyes stayed fixed on him. Lebeziatnikov was heading for the door. Pyotr Petrovitch told Sonia to stay seated and stopped Lebeziatnikov.

"Is Raskolnikov in there? Has he come?" he asked in a whisper.

"Raskolnikov? Yeah. Why? Yeah, he’s here. I just saw him come in... Why?"

"Well, I really hope you’ll stay here with us and not leave me alone with this... young woman. I just want to have a few words with her, but who knows what she’s going to make of it? I don’t want Raskolnikov to repeat anything... You get what I mean?"

"I totally get it," Lebeziatnikov said. "Yeah, you’re right... Of course, I’m pretty sure you don’t have anything to worry about, but... still, you’re right. Definitely, I’ll stay. I’ll stand here by the window and not be in your way... I think you’re right..."

Pyotr Petrovitch went back to the sofa, sat down opposite Sonia, looked at her carefully, and put on a super dignified, almost stern expression, like he was saying, "don’t mess this up, okay?" Sonia was totally embarrassed.

"First things first, Sofya Semyonovna, can you give my apologies to your mom? That’ll be great, right? Katerina Ivanovna basically acts like a mother to you?"

Pyotr Petrovitch started, all serious but still friendly.

It was clear he had good intentions.

"Yeah... that’s right; she’s like a mom," Sonia answered, nervously and quickly.

"Then can you tell her I’m sorry? I’m stuck being somewhere else and can’t make it to dinner, even though your mom was so nice to invite me."

"Yeah... I’ll tell her... right away."

And Sonia quickly got up from her seat.

"Wait, that’s not all," Pyotr Petrovitch held her back, smiling at her innocence and lack of good manners, "and you don’t know me very well, my dear Sofya Semyonovna, if you think I’d bother someone like you for something so small, something that only affects me. I have another reason."

Sonia sat down quickly. Her eyes went back to the grey and rainbow-colored notes on the table, but she quickly looked away and fixed her eyes on Pyotr Petrovitch. She thought it was super awkward, especially for her, to look at someone else’s money.

She stared at the gold eyeglass that Pyotr Petrovitch held in his left hand and at the huge, really handsome ring with a yellow stone on his middle finger. But then she looked away, not knowing where to look, and ended up staring straight at Pyotr Petrovitch again.

After a long, serious pause, he continued.

"I happened yesterday while I was out to exchange a couple of words with Katerina Ivanovna, poor thing. That was enough to realize she’s... not doing well - like, really not well, if you want to put it that way."

"Yeah... not doing well..." Sonia quickly agreed.

"Or it would be simpler and more understandable to say, sick."

"Yeah, simpler and more... yeah, sick."

"Exactly. So, out of kindness, like, genuine compassion, I’m totally happy to help her in any way I can, knowing how tough things are for her. Does this whole family rely on you now?"

"Can I ask you something?" Sonia got to her feet. "Did you mention anything to her yesterday about a pension? Because she told me you promised to get her one. Was that true?"

"Not even close, and it’s a total joke! I just hinted she might get some temporary help as the widow of an official who died while working - if she has connections, you know? But it turns out your dad hadn't even finished his term and wasnn't really working at all lately."

"So, honestly, there's basically no chance of any assistance, not even a little bit. And she’s already dreaming of a pension, haha! Seriously, she’s a go-getter."

"Yeah, she is. She’s just really trusting and has a good heart, so she believes everything because she’s just that kind of person... yeah... You’ve gotta excuse her," said Sonia, and she got up to leave again.

"But you didn’t hear what I had to say."

"No, I didn't," Sonia mumbled.

"Then sit back down."

She was super confused, so she sat down a third time.

"Seeing her situation with her little ones, I’d be glad, like I said, to do what I can - within my limits, of course. We could, for example, start a crowdfunding campaign or a raffle, something like that. It's always how people help each other out, you know?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about; we could totally make it happen."

"Yes, yes... God will bless you for it," Sonia said, staring intently at Pyotr Petrovitch.

"Maybe, but we’ll talk about it later. We could get started today, chat about it tonight and lay the groundwork, so to speak. Come over at seven. Mr. Lebeziatnikov will probably help out. But there’s one thing I need to warn you about, and that’s why I asked you to come here, Sofya Semyonovna."

Honestly, you can’t trust Katerina Ivanovna with the money. The dinner tonight proves it. She doesn’t even have a single loaf of bread for tomorrow, or shoes, or anything. But today, she bought Jamaica rum, and even Madeira and coffee, I saw it when I walked by.

"Tomorrow, it’s all gonna be back on you, and they’ll have nothing. It’s ridiculous, so we should raise money secretly, so she doesn’t even know about it, just you, for example. Makes sense, right?"

"I don’t know... it’s just today, once in her life... She was so desperate to do things right, to honor the memory... And she's usually pretty smart... but just like you think, and I’m gonna be... they’re all gonna be... and God will bless... and the orphans..."

Sonia burst into tears.

"Okay, just keep that in mind. And now, will you accept this small amount that I’m able to give, personally? I really don’t want my name attached to it. Here... I have my own stuff going on, so I can’t do more..."

And Pyotr Petrovitch handed Sonia a ten-rouble note, neatly unfolded. Sonia took it, her face turning bright red, jumped up, muttered something, and started to leave. Pyotr Petrovitch walked her ceremoniously to the door.

She finally got out of the room, totally stressed and confused, and went back to Katerina Ivanovna, feeling completely overwhelmed.

All this time Lebeziatnikov had been standing at the window or pacing around the room, trying not to interrupt the conversation. When Sonia left, he walked over to Pyotr Petrovitch and held out his hand seriously.

"I heard and saw everything," he said, emphasizing the last word. "That’s really honorable, I mean, it's a good thing to do! You were trying to avoid owing anyone thanks, I saw it!"

"And even though I usually don’t get behind private charity - it doesn’t really fix problems, it actually makes them worse - I gotta admit, I was happy about what you did. Yeah, I liked it."

"That’s just crazy talk," Pyotr Petrovitch muttered, looking at Lebeziatnikov carefully, clearly thrown off.

"No, it’s not! Someone who’s been through a lot and still cares about other people’s struggles - that’s someone to respect! Even if they’re messing up socially - they’re still worthy of respect! I honestly didn’t expect it from you, Pyotr Petrovitch, especially with your ideas..."

ugh, your ideas are such a drag on you! How upset you were yesterday about what happened," cried the well-meaning Lebeziatnikov, who felt a renewed fondness for Pyotr Petrovitch. "And, what’s with the whole marriage thing, with legal marriage, my dear, noble Pyotr Petrovitch?

"Why are you clinging to this legal stuff? Seriously, you can punch me if you want, but I’m genuinely glad it didn’t happen, that you’re free, that you haven’t completely lost touch with humanity... you know, I’m just saying what’s on my mind!"

"Because I don’t want to get played and end up raising another man’s kids, that’s why I want a legal marriage," Luzhin replied, trying to make a point.

He seemed distracted.

"Kids? You’re talking about kids?" Lebeziatnikov started, like a warhorse hearing a trumpet.

"Kids are a social issue and a really important one, I agree; but there’s another way to handle kids. Some people just refuse to have them altogether, because they question the whole idea of family. We’ll talk about kids later, but right now, about honor - that’s my weak spot, I confess."

That old-fashioned, military, Pushkin phrase is unthinkable in the dictionary of the future. What does it even mean? It’s nonsense - there won’t be any cheating in a free marriage! That’s just the natural result of a legal marriage, like a way to correct it, a protest.

"So it’s not humiliating... and if I ever, just hypothetically, were to get legally married, I’d be genuinely happy about it. I’d tell my wife: ‘My dear, I love you, but even more than that, I want you to respect me. See!’" He laughed.

"You’re laughing because you’re stuck in your old ways. Seriously, I get now where the awkwardness is of getting hurt in a legal marriage, but it’s just a pathetic consequence of a pathetic situation where both people are humiliated."

When the cheating is out in the open, like in a free marriage, then it doesn’t exist, it’s unthinkable. Your wife would only prove how she respects you by considering you incapable of stopping her from being happy and getting revenge on her for finding another guy.

"Seriously, I sometimes dream that if I were to get married, pfoo! I mean, if I were to marry, legally or not, it's all the same, I'd give my wife a boyfriend if she hadn’t found one for herself. ‘My dear,’ I’d say, ‘I love you, but even more than that, I want you to respect me. Look! Am I wrong?"

Pyotr Petrovitch snickered as he listened, but he wasn’t really amused. He barely heard him. He was lost in his own thoughts, and even Lebeziatnikov finally noticed it. Pyotr Petrovitch seemed excited and was rubbing his hands together. Lebeziatnikov remembered all this and thought about it later.