Part 5 · Chapter 2

It’s hard to explain exactly where Katerina Ivanovna got the idea for that totally wild dinner. She basically blew almost ten of the twenty rubles Raskolnikov gave for Marmeladov’s funeral on it.

Maybe she felt like she had to honor the deceased "properly," so everyone - especially Amalia Ivanovna - would know he wasn’t some loser and was probably way better than them. Like, nobody had the right to look down on him. It’s that weird "poor person’s pride," you know?

When broke people spend their last cash on some fancy tradition just to fit in and not be judged.

Plus, it’s probably that Katerina Ivanovna really wanted to show those "pathetic, stuck-up lodgers" that she knew how to throw a party, that she came from a "fancy, almost aristocratic colonel’s family" and wasn’t meant to be scrubbing floors and washing kids’ clothes at night.

Even the poorest people can have these bursts of pride and vanity, like an uncontrollable urge. And Katerina Ivanovna wasn’t broken; she’d been knocked around by life, but her spirit was still strong, her will unbroken. Sonia had a point - her mind was a mess.

She wasn’t crazy, but she’s been so stressed for a year that she was definitely stretched thin. Doctors say that advanced consumption can mess with your brain.

There weren’t a ton of fancy wines, no Madeira, but there was wine. There was vodka, rum, and Lisbon wine - all really cheap, but there was enough to go around. Besides the usual rice and honey, there were three or four other dishes, including pancakes, all made in Amalia Ivanovna’s kitchen.

Two samovars were boiling so they could serve tea and punch after dinner. Katerina Ivanovna had bought all the food herself, with help from one of the lodgers - a poor little Polish guy who’s been stuck at Madame Lippevechsel’s.

He was totally at her disposal and had been running around like crazy all morning and the day before, making sure everyone knew it. He ran to Katerina Ivanovna over every little thing, even tracking her down at the bazaar, and called her "Pani" every chance he got.

She was seriously annoyed by him by the end, even though she’d initially said she couldn’t have done it without this "helpful and generous guy." It was one of Katerina Ivanovna’s quirks to see the best in everyone she met.

Her praise was so over-the-top it was embarrassing; she’d invent stories about her new friends and genuinely believe they were true. Then, suddenly, she’d be disappointed and would harshly reject the person she’d been practically worshiping just hours before.

She was naturally upbeat, lively, and wanted everyone to get along, but after so many failures and bad luck, she really wanted everyone to be happy and peaceful, and the slightest problem or disaster would send her into a near-panic, flipping from bright hopes to cursing her fate and banging her head against the wall.

Amalia Ivanovna suddenly became super important to Katerina Ivanovna, and she treated her with a ton of respect - probably just because Amalia Ivanovna totally threw herself into planning everything.

She took charge of setting the table, getting the linens and dishes, and even cooking in her kitchen. Katerina Ivanovna just handed it all over and went to the cemetery. Everything was perfect.

Even the tablecloth was almost spotless; the dishes, knives, forks, and glasses were all different, borrowed from different people, but the table was set just when it was time, and Amalia Ivanovna, feeling like she’d nailed it, put on a black silk dress and a cap with new mourning ribbons and greeted everyone with a little bit of pride.

But for some reason, that pride bugged Katerina Ivanovna: "Like the table couldn't have been set except by Amalia Ivanovna!" She didn’t like the cap with the new ribbons either.

"Could she get a big head, that clueless German, just because she was running the house and agreed to help her poor roommates? As a favor? Seriously?"

"Katerina Ivanovna’s dad, who’s been a colonel and practically a governor, sometimes had the table set for forty people, and no one like Amalia Ivanovna, or rather Ludwigovna, would have even been allowed in the kitchen."

Katerina Ivanovna, however, held back what she was feeling for now and just treated her coldly, but she decided she’d definitely have to put Amalia Ivanovna in her place, because who knew what she was thinking.

Katerina Ivanovna was also annoyed that hardly anyone she invited came to the funeral, except for the Pole who just barely made it into the cemetery. But for the memorial dinner, all the poorest and most insignificant people showed up - those losers, many of them not even sober.

The older, more respectable ones all stayed away, like they’d agreed to.

Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin, for example, who you could say was the most respectable of them all, didn’t show up, even though Katerina Ivanovna had told everyone the night before - Amalia Ivanovna, Polenka, Sonia, and the Pole - that he was the most generous, noble-hearted man with a huge property and tons of connections, who’d been a friend of her first husband’s and a guest in her dad’s house, and that he’d promised to use all his influence to get her a good pension.

"It’s worth noting that when Katerina Ivanovna bragged about someone’s connections and fortune, it was completely selfless - just for the fun of making them seem important. Probably taking a cue from Luzhin, "that awful Lebeziatnikov didn’t show up either. What did he think he was?

"He was only invited out of kindness and because he shared a room with Pyotr Petrovitch and was his friend, so it would have been awkward not to invite him."

Those who didn't show up included "the fancy lady and her old-maid daughter," who had only been staying at the house for two weeks, but had complained a bunch of times about the noise and chaos coming from Katerina Ivanovna’s room, especially when Marmeladov was drunk.

Katerina Ivanovna heard this from Amalia Ivanovna, who, after arguing with Katerina Ivanovna and threatening to kick the whole family out, yelled that they "weren’t worth the dust" of the important guests they were bothering.

Katerina Ivanovna decided to invite this lady and her daughter - the ones who had turned away from her - so they could see that "she was better than them, with class and no grudges," and that she wasn't used to a low-class lifestyle.

She planned to make this clear at dinner by mentioning her late father’s job as a government official, and also to subtly let them know it was pretty dumb to ignore her.

The chubby colonel-major (who was really a discharged officer with a low rank) was also missing, but it seemed he’d been "off" for the past couple of days.

The party included a Pole, a pathetic-looking clerk with a spotty face and a greasy coat who barely said a word and smelled awful, and a deaf and practically blind old man who used to work at the post office and had been supported by Amalia Ivanovna for ages.

A retired clerk from the government also showed up - he was drunk, had a loud and embarrassing laugh, and get this - wasn't even wearing a vest! One guest just plopped down at the table without even saying hi to Katerina Ivanovna.

Finally, someone showed up in his bathrobe, but that was too much, and Amalia Ivanovna and the Pole managed to send him away. The Pole, though, brought two other Poles who didn't live with Amalia Ivanovna and who no one had ever seen there before. This really ticked off Katerina Ivanovna.

"Who were they even planning this party for?"

To make room for everyone, the kids hadn't even been set a place at the table; instead, the two little ones were sitting on a bench in the corner with their dinner on a box, while Polenka, as the big sister, had to look after them, feed them, and wipe their noses like well-behaved kids.

Katerina Ivanovna couldn't help but meet her guests with extra attitude and even snobbery. She stared down some of them with a serious look and formally invited them to sit.

Concluding that Amalia Ivanovna was to blame for those who didn’t show, she started treating her with dismissiveness, which the latter immediately noticed and got offended by. This wasn't a great start to the evening. Everyone was finally seated.

Raskolnikov arrived almost as soon as they got back from the cemetery.

Katerina Ivanovna was super happy to see him, first because he was the only "educated guest, and, as everyone knew, was about to become a professor at the university in two years," and second because he immediately and respectfully apologized for being unable to attend the funeral.

She practically jumped at him and made him sit on her left side (Amalia Ivanovna was on her right).

Despite constantly worrying about whether the dishes were being passed around correctly and whether everyone was tasting everything, despite the agonizing cough that interrupted her every minute and seemed to have gotten worse in recent days, she hurried to whisper to Raskolnikov all her pent-up feelings and her frustration about the failed dinner, mixing in lively and uncontrollable laughter at her guests and especially at her landlady.

"It’s all her fault! You know who I mean? Her, her!"

Katerina Ivanovna pointed to the landlady.

"Look at her, she’s giving me the side-eye, totally confused because we’re talking about her. Ugh, the owl! Ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough. And what’s with the hat? (Cough-cough-cough. Does she think she’s doing me a huge favor just by being here?"

I asked her, like a normal person, to invite some people, especially those who knew my late husband, and look at the crowd she’s brought! A bunch of losers! Check out that one with the acne. And those awkward Poles, ha-ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.)

None of them have ever been here before, I’m seeing them for the first time. What are they even doing here, I ask you? They’re all just sitting in a row. Hey, pan!" she suddenly shouted to one of them, "Have you tried the pancakes? Grab some more! Get a beer! Wanna shot of vodka?

"Look, he’s jumping up and bowing - they must be starving, poor things. Never mind, let them eat! At least they’re not making a racket, though I'm seriously worried about our landlady’s silverware... Amalia Ivanovna!"

she turned to her suddenly, almost yelling, "If your spoons go missing, don’t blame me, I’m warning you! Ha-ha-ha!" She laughed, glancing at Raskolnikov, and nodding again at the landlady, totally thrilled with her joke.

"She didn’t get it, she didn’t get it again! Look how she’s sitting there with her mouth open! A real owl! An owl with a new bow, ha-ha-ha!"

Her laughter turned into another coughing fit that lasted five minutes. Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead, and her handkerchief was stained with blood.

She showed Raskolnikov the blood silently, and as soon as she could catch her breath, she started whispering to him again, super excited and flushed.

"You know, I gave her the clearest instructions, like, seriously, about inviting that lady and her daughter, you know who I’m talking about? It needed to be super delicate, the most careful approach, but she totally messed it up."

That fool, that stuck-up girl, that small-town nobody, just because she’s the widow of a major, and is trying to score a pension and wear out her clothes at the government offices, because at fifty she’s painting her face (everyone knows it)...

a creature like that didn’t even bother to come, and hasn’t even responded to the invitation, which is just basic good manners! I can’t believe Pyotr Petrovitch hasn't shown up! But where’s Sonia? Where’s she gone? Oh, there she is finally! What’s up, Sonia, where have you been?

It's so weird, even at your dad's funeral you were late. Rodion Romanovitch, scoot over for her. That's your spot, Sonia... help yourself to anything you want. Grab some of the cold appetizers with jelly, that's the best. They’ll bring the pancakes soon. Have they gotten the kids something?

"Polenka, do you have everything? (Cough-cough-cough.) That’s all good. Be a good girl, Lida, and, Kolya, stop wiggling your feet; sit like a little gentleman. What are you saying, Sonia?"

Sonia quickly gave Pyotr Petrovitch’s apologies, trying to speak loud enough for everyone to hear and carefully choosing the most respectful words, pretending they were from Pyotr Petrovitch.

She added that Pyotr Petrovitch had specifically told her to say that, as soon as possible, he would come immediately to talk business alone with her and to figure out what could be done for her, etc., etc.

Sonia knew this would cheer up Katerina Ivanovna, would flatter her and boost her ego. She sat down next to Raskolnikov; she gave him a quick nod, looking at him curiously. But for the rest of the time, she seemed to avoid looking at him or talking to him.

She seemed distracted, though she kept glancing at Katerina Ivanovna, trying to make her happy. Neither she nor Katerina Ivanovna had been able to get mourning clothes; Sonia was wearing dark brown, and Katerina Ivanovna was wearing her only dress, a dark striped cotton one.

The message from Pyotr Petrovitch had gone really well.

Listening to Sonia with grace, Katerina Ivanovna asked with equal grace how Pyotr Petrovitch was, then immediately whispered almost loudly to Raskolnikov that it would have been totally weird for a guy like Pyotr Petrovitch - with his status and connections - to be hanging out in "this kind of company," even though he was devoted to her family and had been friends with her dad for years.

"That’s why I’m so grateful to you, Rodion Romanovitch, that you didn’t think twice about accepting my hospitality, even in a place like this," she added, almost yelling. "But I’m sure it was only your special affection for my poor husband that made you keep your promise."

Then, once again with pride and dignity, she scanned her guests, and suddenly asked out loud across the table to the deaf man: "Doesn’t he want any more meat, and did he get any wine?"

The old man didn’t answer, and for a long time didn’t understand what she was asking, even though his neighbors were having a good laugh, poking and shaking him. He just stared around with his mouth open, which just made everyone laugh even harder.

"What a space! Look at him! Why even bring him?"

Katerina Ivanovna continued.

"But as for Pyotr Petrovitch, I always trusted him, and, of course, he’s not like..."

with a super serious face, she turned to Amalia Ivanovna, speaking so sharply and loudly that the latter was totally thrown off.

"Not like your wannabes whom my father wouldn’t have even hired to cook in his kitchen, and my late husband would have been embarrassed to invite in the kindness of his heart."

"Yeah, he liked to drink, he liked it, he did drink!" the commissariat clerk shouted, chugging his twelfth shot of vodka.

"My late husband definitely had that weakness, and everyone knew it," Katerina Ivanovna snapped at him.

"But he was a kind and honorable man, who loved and respected his family. The worst part was his good nature made him trust all sorts of shady people, and he’d drink with guys who weren’t worth the dirt on his shoes."

"Can you believe it, Rodion Romanovitch, they found a gingerbread rooster in his pocket - he was totally wasted, but he didn’t forget the kids!"

"A rooster? You’re kidding, right?" the commissariat clerk yelled.

Katerina Ivanovna didn’t respond. She sighed, lost in thought.

"No doubt you think, like everyone, that I was too hard on him," she went on, addressing Raskolnikov.

"But that’s not true! He respected me, he respected me a lot! He was a good-hearted man! And how sorry I felt for him sometimes! He’s just sit in a corner and look at me, I’d feel so bad for him, I’d want to be nice to him, and then I’d think to myself: ‘Be nice to him and he’ll drink again.’"

"It was only by being strict that you could keep him in line."

"Yeah, he used to get his hair pulled pretty often," the commissariat clerk roared again, slamming down another shot of vodka.

"Some people would be better off with a good smack, as well as having their hair pulled. I’m not talking about my late husband now!" Katerina Ivanovna snapped at him.

Her cheeks were getting redder and redder, and her chest was heaving. She was about to lose it. A bunch of the guests were snickering, totally amused. They started nudging the commissariat clerk and whispering to him, trying to rile him up.

"What are you guys even talking about?" the clerk began, "Wait, whose... about who did you say just now... But I don’t care! That’s ridiculous! Widow! I forgive you... Move along!"

He took another shot of vodka.

Raskolnikov sat there silently, feeling disgusted. He only ate out of politeness, just tasting the food Katerina Ivanovna kept piling on his plate to avoid hurting her feelings. He watched Sonia closely.

But Sonia was getting more and more anxious and stressed; she, too, could tell the dinner wasn't going to end well, and she was terrified by Katerina Ivanovna’s growing frustration.

She knew she, Sonia, was the main reason the "fancy" ladies were giving Katerina Ivanovna’s invitation the cold shoulder. She’d heard from Amalia Ivanovna that her mom was seriously offended by the invite and had asked, "How could she let her daughter sit next to that girl?"

Sonia felt like Katerina Ivanovna had already heard this, and an insult to Sonia meant more to Katerina Ivanovna than an insult to herself, her kids, or her dad. Sonia knew Katerina Ivanovna wouldn’t be satisfied until she showed those "bougie" people that they were both... something.

To top it off, someone passed Sonia, from across the table, a plate with two hearts pierced with an arrow, cut out of black bread. Katerina Ivanovna’s face turned bright red, and she immediately shouted across the table that the guy who sent it was "a total drunk!"

Amalia Ivanovna sensed something was about to blow up, and she was also deeply hurt by Katerina Ivanovna’s attitude.

To lighten the mood and make a good impression on everyone, she started telling a random story about an acquaintance of hers, "Karl from the pharmacy," who was in a cab one night, and that "the cab driver wanted to kill him, and Karl totally begged him not to kill him, crying and clasping his hands, so scared that he pierced his own heart."

Though Katerina Ivanovna managed a smile, she immediately pointed out that Amalia Ivanovna shouldn’t tell stories in Russian. The latter was even more offended and retorted that her "dad from Berlin was a really important guy, and always kept his hands in his pockets."

Katerina Ivanovna couldn’t help but laugh so hard that Amalia Ivanovna lost it and could barely contain herself.

"Listen to the owl!"

Katerina Ivanovna whispered, her mood almost back to normal, "She meant he kept his hands in his pockets, but she said he put his hands in people’s pockets. (Cough-cough.)"

And have you noticed, Rodion Romanovitch, that all these Petersburg foreigners, especially the Germans, are all dumber than we are!

Can you imagine anyone from here saying how ‘Karl from the pharmacy’ ‘pierced his heart from fear’ and that the idiot, instead of punishing the cab driver, ‘clapped his hands and cried, and begged so much.’ What a goofball!

And you know she thinks it’s so touching and doesn’t realize how clueless she is! Honestly, I think that drunken commissariat clerk is way smarter, at least you can tell he’s fried his brain with booze, but you know, these foreigners are always so well-behaved and serious... Look how she's glaring!

"She’s mad, ha-ha! (Cough-cough-cough.)"

Feeling better, Katerina Ivanovna started telling Raskolnikov that once she got her pension, she planned to open a school for rich girls back in her hometown, T - . This was the first time she’d mentioned it, and she got super into the details.

Suddenly, it came out that Katerina Ivanovna had the honor certificate Marmeladov had told Raskolnikov about at the tavern - the one where Katerina Ivanovna had danced the shawl dance for the governor and other big shots when she left school.

The certificate was obviously meant to prove she was qualified to run a boarding school, but she mostly wanted to use it to shut down "those two snobs" if they came to dinner, proving that Katerina Ivanovna was from a "totally noble, like, aristocratic family - a colonel’s daughter and way better than some of the social climbers who’s been everywhere lately."

The certificate ended up in the hands of the drunk guests, and Katerina Ivanovna didn’t even try to get it back, because it actually stated that her dad was a major and had received an honor, so she was practically a colonel’s daughter.

Getting into it, Katerina Ivanovna started going on about the peaceful and happy life they’d have in T - .

She talked about the gym teachers she’d hire for her boarding school, like a really respectable old Frenchman, Mangot, who’d taught Katerina Ivanovna back in the day and was still living in T - , and would probably teach at her school for a decent price.

Then she brought up Sonia, who would go with her to T - and help with everything. Someone at the other end of the table let out a loud laugh.

Even though Katerina Ivanovna pretended not to notice, she raised her voice and started talking with real conviction about Sonia’s amazing ability to help, about "her kindness, patience, loyalty, generosity, and good education," tapping Sonia’s cheek and kissing her warmly twice.

Sonia’s face turned bright red, and Katerina Ivanovna suddenly started crying, immediately saying she was "just nervous and silly, that she was too worked up, that it was time to wrap things up, and since dinner was over, it was time for tea."

At that moment, Amalia Ivanovna, feeling ignored and left out, made one last effort, nervously dropping a really serious observation, that "in the future boarding school she’d have to pay special attention to the laundry, and that there definitely had to be a good housekeeper to take care of the linens, and secondly that the girls weren’t allowed to read novels at night."

Katerina Ivanovna, who was definitely upset, super tired, and totally over the dinner, cut Amalia Ivanovna off, saying "she didn’t know anything about that and was talking crazy, that it was the laundry maid’s job, not the head of a fancy boarding school’s job, to worry about the laundry, and as for reading novels, that was just rude, and she asked her to be quiet."

Amalia Ivanovna got defensive, saying she "just meant well," and that "she meant her very well," and that "it had been a while since she’d paid her rent for the rooms."

Katerina Ivanovna immediately "shut her down," saying it was a lie to say she wished her well, because just yesterday, when her dead husband was lying on the table, she’s been stressing her out about the rooms.

Amalia Ivanovna sharply pointed out that she’s invited those ladies, but "those ladies didn’t come, because those ladies are ladies and can’t hang out with someone who isn’t. Katerina Ivanovna quickly called her out, saying she couldn't judge what made someone a lady since she was basically a slasteriskt.

Amalia Ivanovna immediately declared that her "dad from Berlin was a really, really important guy, and he’s always got his hands in his pockets and always used to say: ‘Poof! poof!’"

She jumped up from the table to act like her dad, sticking her hands in her pockets, puffing her cheeks, and making weird sounds like "poof! poof!" while everyone else laughed, totally egging her on, hoping for a fight.

But that was too much for Katerina Ivanovna, and she immediately announced, loud enough for everyone to hear, that Amalia Ivanovna probably never even had a dad, but was just a drunk Finnish girl from Petersburg, and had definitely once been a cook - and probably something worse.

Amalia Ivanovna turned as red as a lobster and yelled that maybe Katerina Ivanovna never had a dad, "but she had a dad from Berlin and he wore a long coat and always said poof-poof-poof!"

Katerina Ivanovna snappily pointed out that everyone knew what her family was and that it was all printed on her official papers that her dad was a colonel, while Amalia Ivanovna’s dad - if she even had one - was probably some Finnish milkman, but most likely she never had a dad at all, since it was still unclear if her name was Amalia Ivanovna or Amalia Ludwigovna.

At that, Amalia Ivanovna, completely furious, slammed her fist on the table and shrieked that she was Amalia Ivanovna, not Ludwigovna, "that her dad was named Johann and that he was a mayor, and that Katerina Ivanovna’s dad was definitely not a mayor."

Katerina Ivanovna got up from her chair, and with a calm but serious voice (even though she was pale and breathing hard) said that "if she dared to put her trash of a dad on the same level as her dad, she, Katerina Ivanovna, would rip her cap off her head and stomp on it."

Amalia Ivanovna ran around the room, yelling at the top of her lungs, that she owned the place and that Katerina Ivanovna should leave the rooms right then; then she suddenly ran to grab the silver spoons from the table. There was a huge commotion and a lot of noise, and the kids started crying.

Sonia tried to stop Katerina Ivanovna, but when Amalia Ivanovna yelled something about "the yellow ticket," Katerina Ivanovna shoved Sonia away and rushed at the landlady to carry out her threat.

Just then, the door opened, and Pyotr Petrovitch Luzhin showed up in the doorway. He stood there, looking at everyone with a serious and watchful gaze. Katerina Ivanovna ran to him.