Part 5 · Chapter 5

Lebeziatnikov looked totally stressed.

"I came to you, Sofya Semyonovna," he started.

"Um, sorry... I thought I'd find you," he said, suddenly addressing Raskolnikov, "that is, I didn’t mean anything like that... But I just thought...

Katerina Ivanovna has totally lost it," he blurted out suddenly, turning from Raskolnikov to Sonia. Sonia gasped.

"At least, it seems that way. But... we don’t know what to do, you see! She came back - she seems to have been kicked out somewhere, maybe even beaten... So it looks like, anyway,... She went to your dad’s old boss, but he wasn’t home: he was having dinner at another general’s place..."

Can you believe it, she stormed over there, to the other general’s, and, get this, she was so persistent that she actually got the boss to see her, had him pulled out of dinner, it seems. You can imagine what happened next.

She got kicked out, of course; but, according to her, she yelled at him and threw something at him. It's totally believable... I can't figure out why she wasn’t arrested! Now she’s telling everyone, even Amalia Ivanovna; but it’s hard to understand her, she’s screaming and throwing herself around...

Oh yeah, she’s shouting that since everyone has abandoned her, she’s going to take the kids and go into the street with a barrel-organ, and the kids will sing and dance, and she’ll sing too, and collect money, and will go every day under the general’s window...

‘to let everyone see well-born kids, whose dad was an official, begging in the street.’ She keeps hitting the kids and they’re all crying. She’s teaching Lida to sing ‘My Village,’ the boy to dance, Polenka too.

"She’s ripping up all the clothes, and making them little caps like actors; she’s planning to carry a tin basin and make it jingle, instead of music... She won’t listen to anything... Seriously, can you even imagine the mess?! It’s insane!"

Lebeziatnikov would have kept going, but Sonia, who had been listening to him practically breathless, grabbed her coat and hat and bolted out of the room, throwing her things on as she went. Raskolnikov followed her, and Lebeziatnikov hurried after them.

"She’s definitely lost it!" he said to Raskolnikov, as they headed out into the street. "I didn’t want to freak Sofya Semyonovna out, so I said ‘it seemed like it,’ but there’s no doubt about it."

"They say that with consumption, sometimes these bumps show up in the brain; it’s a bummer I don’t know anything about medicine. I tried to talk her down, but she wouldn’t listen."

"Did you talk to her about the bumps?"

"Not exactly about the bumps. Besides, she wouldn’t have gotten it! But what I’m saying is, that if you convince someone logically that they have nothing to cry about, they’ll stop crying. That’s clear. Do you think that’s not true?"

"Life would be way too easy if it were that simple," answered Raskolnikov.

"Hold on, hold on; of course it would be tricky for Katerina Ivanovna to understand, but did you know that in Paris they’ve been doing serious experiments on curing people who are crazy, just by using logic?"

One professor there, a really smart guy, recently passed away, believed in the possibility of that kind of treatment.

His idea was that there’s nothing really wrong with the physical body of a crazy person, and that insanity is, like, a logical mistake, an error in judgment, a messed-up way of seeing things. He gradually showed the crazy person their mistake and, get this, they say he was successful?

"But as he used nose rinses too, it’s hard to know how much success was because of that treatment... So it seems at least."

Raskolnikov had stopped listening a long time ago. Reaching the house where he lived, he nodded to Lebeziatnikov and went in through the gate. Lebeziatnikov snapped awake, looked around, and hurried on.

Raskolnikov went into his tiny room and just stood there. Why did he even come back here? He looked around at the faded, ripped wallpaper, the dust, his couch... Loud, constant hammering was coming from the courtyard. Someone was really going at it.

He went to the window, tiptoed up, and stared down into the courtyard for a long time, totally absorbed. But the courtyard was empty, and he couldn't see who was hammering. He saw some open windows in the building next door; pots of sickly geraniums sat on the window sills.

Laundry was hanging out the windows... He knew every detail by heart. He turned away and plopped down on the couch.

He’d never felt so totally alone in his life!

Yeah, he felt like he might actually start to hate Sonia, now that he's made her even more miserable.

"Why did he go to her to beg for her tears? What did he even need to poison her life? Ugh, how low could he be?"

"He’s gonna stay alone," he said, trying to sound tough, "and she’s not going to prison!"

Five minutes later, he looked up with a weird little smile. That was a strange thought.

"Maybe Siberia wouldn’t be so bad after all," he thought suddenly.

He couldn’t even guess how long he sat there, with all these random thoughts swirling around. Then, the door opened, and Dounia walked in.

At first, she just stood there, looking at him from the doorway, just like he’s done with Sonia; then, she came in and sat down in the same spot as yesterday, in the chair facing him. He stared at her silently, almost blankly.

"Don’t be mad, bro; I just came for a sec," said Dounia.

Her face looked thoughtful, but not angry. Her eyes were bright and soft. He saw that she came to him with love, too.

"Brother, now I know everything, everything. Dmitri Prokofitch explained and told me everything. They’re stressing you out and harassing you over this dumb, ridiculous suspicion... Dmitri Prokofitch said there’s no danger, and you’re wrong to freak out so much."

I don’t think so, and I totally get how ticked off you must be, and how that anger could really mess you up. That's what worries me. As for you cutting yourself off from us, I'm not judging you, and forgive me for blaming you for it. I feel like if I had a problem that big, I’d need to space out too.

I’m not going to tell Mom anything, but I’ll talk about you constantly and tell her you’ll be back soon. Don’t worry about her; I’ll calm her down; but don’t push her too hard - come back at least once; remember, she’s your mom.

"And now I came just to say" (Dounia started to get up) "that if you need me or if you need... anything, for the rest of my life... call me, and I’ll be there. Bye!"

She turned abruptly and headed for the door.

"Dounia!" Raskolnikov stopped her and walked towards her.

"That Razumihin, Dmitri Prokofitch, is a really good guy."

Dounia blushed a little.

"Okay?" she asked, waiting a beat.

"He’s competent, hardworking, honest, and capable of real love... Bye, Dounia."

Dounia’s face turned crimson, then she suddenly seemed nervous.

"But what does it mean? Are we really breaking up forever that you... give me such a goodbye?"

"Never mind... Bye."

He turned away and walked to the window. She stood there for a moment, looked at him uneasily, and left, looking worried.

No, he wasn't cold to her. There was one moment, the very last one, when he wanted to pull her into his arms and say goodbye, even tell her... but he didn’t even dare to touch her hand.

"Later, she might cringe when she remembers that I hugged her, and feel like I stole her kiss."

"And would she handle that?" he thought a few minutes later.

"Nah, she wouldn’t; girls like that can’t deal with stuff! They never do."

And he thought about Sonia.

A cool breeze drifted in from the window. Daylight was fading fast. He grabbed his cap and headed out.

He couldn't, and wouldn't, think about how sick he really was. But all this constant stress and mental anguish was definitely taking a toll. And if he wasn't burning up with a high fever, it was maybe because this constant, intense focus was keeping him upright and in control.

But he knew this fake energy couldn’t last forever.

He just wandered around aimlessly. The sun was setting. A weird kind of sadness had been hanging over him lately. It wasn’t like a sudden, sharp pain; it was more of a deep, lasting feeling. It gave him a taste of endless, miserable years, like being stuck "on a tiny patch of ground."

This feeling always got worse as evening came.

"Seriously, with this ridiculous, purely physical weakness, depending on the sunset or whatever, you’re just gonna do something dumb! You’ll go to Dounia, just like you'll go to Sonia," he mumbled bitterly.

He heard someone call his name. He looked around. Lebeziatnikov rushed up to him.

"You won’t believe this! I was at your place looking for you. Get this: she actually did it, and took the kids. Sofya Semyonovna and I had a serious time tracking them down. She's banging on a frying pan and making them dance! The kids are crying."

"They keep stopping at intersections and in front of stores; there’s a crowd of people chasing after them. Come on!"

"And Sonia?" Raskolnikov asked, hurrying after Lebeziatnikov.

"Totally losing it. That is, it’s not Sofya Semyonovna freaking out, but Katerina Ivanovna. Though Sofya Semyonovna's freaking out too. But Katerina Ivanovna is completely insane. They’re gonna get arrested. Can you imagine the mess that’s gonna cause?..."

"They’re on the canal bank, near the bridge now, not far from Sofya Semyonovna’s, really close."

Near the canal, by the bridge, just a couple of houses from where Sonia lived, there was a bunch of people - mostly kids who lived on the streets. You could hear Katerina Ivanovna’s voice, all raspy and broken, from the bridge, and honestly, it was a pretty wild scene that would draw a crowd.

Katerina Ivanovna, in her old dress and a green shawl, wearing a totally messed-up straw hat crushed on one side, was seriously freaking out. She was exhausted and out of breath.

Her pale, sickly face looked even worse than usual, and being outside in the sunshine just made a consumptive look even sicker. But she didn't let up, and she got more and more frustrated.

She ran at the kids, yelling at them, trying to convince them, telling everyone in the crowd how to dance and what to sing, and when they didn't get it, she started hitting them.

Then she’d charge the crowd; if she spotted anyone decent stopping to look, she's immediately tell them these kids "from a fancy, like, upper-class house" had ended up like this. If she heard laughter or teasing, she'd rush at the people laughing and start arguing with them.

Some people laughed, others shook their heads, but everyone was curious to watch the woman acting crazy with the scared kids. The frying pan Lebeziatnikov had mentioned wasn’t there, at least Raskolnikov didn’t see it.

But instead of banging on a pan, Katerina Ivanovna started clapping her weak hands when she made Lida and Kolya dance and Polenka sing. She joined in the singing too, but she choked on the second note with a horrible cough, making her curse and even cry.

What really got to her was Kolya and Lida's crying and fear. Someone had tried to dress the kids up like street performers. The boy was wearing a turban made of red and white fabric to look like a Turk.

Lida didn’t have a costume; she just had a red knitted cap, more like a nightcap that used to belong to Marmeladov, decorated with a broken piece of white ostrich feather, which was Katerina Ivanovna’s grandmother’s and had been kept as a family heirloom.

Polenka was in her everyday clothes; she looked at her mom with nervous confusion and stayed close to her, hiding her tears. She kind of understood what was going on, and she looked around anxiously. She was totally terrified of the street and the crowd.

Sonia followed Katerina Ivanovna, crying and begging her to go home, but Katerina Ivanovna wouldn't budge.

"Stop it, Sonia, stop it," she yelled, talking super fast, panting and coughing. "You have no clue what you’re asking! You’re acting like a little kid! I’ve already told you I’m not going back to that drunk German."

"Let everyone, let all of Petersburg see the kids begging on the streets, even though their dad was an honest man who served his whole life with truth and loyalty - you could say he died on the job. (Katerina Ivanovna had totally made up this wild story and genuinely believed it.)

"Let that awful general see it! And you’re being ridiculous, Sonia: what are we going to eat? Seriously, tell me that. We’re stressing you out enough, I’m not going on like this!"

Oh, Rodion Romanovitch, is that you?" she cried, spotting Raskolnikov and rushing towards him. "Explain to this silly girl, please, that there was no better option!

Even street musicians make a living, and everyone will instantly see that we’re different, that we’re an honorable and grieving family brought down to begging. And that general is gonna lose his job, you’ll see!

We’ll perform right under his windows every day, and if the Tsar drives by, I’ll drop to my knees, put the kids in front of me, show them to him, and say, ‘Protect us, father. He’s the protector of the orphans, he’s kind, he’ll protect us, you’ll see, and that awful general...

"Lida, stand up straight! Kolya, you’ll dance again. Why are you sniffling? Sniffling again! What are you scared of, you goofball? Seriously, what am I supposed to do with them, Rodion Romanovitch? If you only knew how clueless they are! What’s a person to do with kids like that?"

And she, practically crying herself - which didn't stop her nonstop, rapid-fire talking - pointed to the crying kids.

Raskolnikov tried to convince her to go home, and even said, hoping to play to her ego, that it wasn't a good look for her to be wandering around the streets like a street musician, especially since she was planning to become the head of a school.

"A boarding school, seriously? Ha-ha-ha!" Katerina Ivanovna said, her laugh ending in a cough. "No, Rodion Romanovitch, that dream is totally over! Everyone’s left us!... And that general..."

"you know, I chucked an inkpot at him - it was just sitting there in the waiting area where you sign your name. I wrote my name, threw it at him, and ran! Oh, the jerks! But enough about them, now I’ll take care of the kids myself, I’m not bowing down to anyone! She’s taken enough for us!"

she pointed to Sonia.

"Polenka, how much do you have? Show me! What, only two pennies? Ugh, so cheap! They give us nothing, just tease us and stick their tongues out. Hey, what’s that goofball laughing at?"

(She pointed to a man in the crowd.)

"It’s all because Kolya’s such a dummy; I’m so stressed dealing with him. What do you want, Polenka? Tell me in French, parlez-moi français. I taught you, remember? You know some phrases."

Otherwise, how are you gonna show everyone you’re from a good family, well-raised kids, and not like those street performers? We’re not putting on a Punch and Judy show, but singing something classy... Ah, yes... What are we gonna sing? You’re always distracting me, but we...

you see, we're standing here, Rodion Romanovitch, to find something to sing and get money, something Kolya can dance to... Because, like, our show is totally impromptu... We have to talk it over and practice a lot, and then we'll head to Nevsky Prospekt, where there are tons more fancy people, and

we’ll get noticed for sure. Lida only knows ‘My Village,’ nothing but ‘My Village,’ and everyone sings that. We need something way more sophisticated... Well, have you thought of anything, Polenka? If only you’d help your mom! My memory’s totally gone, or I would have thought of something.

We really can’t sing ‘An Hussar.’ Ah, let’s sing in French, ‘Cinq sous,’ I’ve taught it to you, I’ve taught it to you. And since it’s in French, people will instantly see you’re from a good family, and that’s way more touching...

You could sing ‘Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre,’ because that’s a total kid’s song and they sing it as a lullaby in all the fancy houses.

"Marlborough s’en va-t-en guerre Ne sait quand reviendra..." she began singing.

But no, better sing ‘Cinq sous.’ Now, Kolya, hands on your hips, hurry up, and you, Lida, keep turning around, and Polenka and I will sing and clap our hands!

"Cinq sous, cinq sous Pour monter notre menage."

Followed by a few loud coughs.

"Straighten your dress, Polenka, it’s slipped off your shoulders," she said, panting from coughing. "It’s especially important to act nice and classy now, so everyone can see you’re well-born. I said at the time the bodice should be longer, and made from two pieces."

It was your fault, Sonia, with your advice to make it shorter, and now look, the kid looks totally awkward... Why are you all crying again? What’s the matter, dummies? Come on, Kolya, start. Hurry, hurry! Oh, what a nightmare of a kid!

Cinq sous, cinq sous. The singing continued.

"A cop again! What do you want?"

A cop was definitely pushing his way through the crowd.

But at that moment, a man in regular clothes and a coat - a solid-looking official around fifty with a medal on his neck (which thrilled Katerina Ivanovna and had an effect on the cop) - approached and without a word handed her a green three-rouble bill. His face showed genuine sympathy.

Katerina Ivanovna took it and gave him a polite, even formal, bow.

"Seriously, thank you, sir," she began, trying to sound important.

"The reasons we’re here... (take the money, Polenka: you see there are good people out there, willing to help a girl in a tough spot)."

You see, sir, these orphans - they’re good families, even with some fancy connections - and that awful general was just sitting there, eating grouse... and got mad when I bothered him.

‘Your excellency,’ I said, ‘protect the orphans, you knew my late husband, Semyon Zaharovitch, and right after he died, the worst kind of jerk started talking trash about his only daughter.’... That cop again! Protect me," she cried to the official. "Why is that policeman creeping up on me?

"We just ran away from one of them. What do you want, seriously?"

"It’s not allowed in the streets. You’re causing a scene."

"You’re causing a scene. It’s like I’m playing an organ without permission. What’s it to you?"

"You need a permit to play an organ, and you don’t have one. That’s how you gather a crowd. Where do you live?"

"A license?" wailed Katerina Ivanovna.

"I buried my husband today. Why would I need a license?"

"Calm down, madam, calm down," began the official.

"Come on; I’ll walk you... This isn’t a good place to be in a crowd. You don’t look well."

"Please, sir, sir, you don’t understand," screamed Katerina Ivanovna.

"We’re heading to Nevsky... Sonia, Sonia! Where is she? She’s crying too! What’s wrong with everyone? Kolya, Lida, where are you going?" she cried suddenly, panicked. "Oh, you silly kids! Kolya, Lida, where are they running off to?..."

Kolya and Lida, totally freaked out by the crowd and their mom’s crazy behavior, suddenly grabbed each other’s hands and bolted when they saw the policeman who wanted to take them somewhere. Crying and wailing, poor Katerina Ivanovna ran after them.

She looked like a total mess, panting and gasping for air. Sonia and Polenka rushed after them.

"Bring them back, bring them back, Sonia! Oh, you ungrateful kids!... Polenka! catch them... It’s for your sakes I..."

She tripped as she ran and fell down.

"She’s hurt, she’s bleeding! Oh, no!" cried Sonia, leaning over her.

Everyone rushed up and crowded around. Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov were the first to her side, the official hurried up too, and behind him the policeman who grumbled, "Ugh!" with a frustrated gesture, feeling like this was going to be a huge pain.

"Move along! Move along!" he said to the crowd that was pushing forward.

"She’s dying!" someone shouted.

"She’s lost it," said another.

"Lord have mercy," said a woman, crossing herself. "Did they grab the little girl and the boy? They’re being brought back, the older one’s got them... Those little terrors!"

When they looked at Katerina Ivanovna closely, they saw that she hadn’t cut herself on a stone, like Sonia thought, but that the blood staining the sidewalk red was coming from her chest.

"I’ve seen this before," muttered the official to Raskolnikov and Lebeziatnikov; "that’s consumption; the blood flows and chokes the patient. I saw the same thing with a relative of my own not long ago... almost a pint of blood, all in a minute... What are we going to do though? She’s dying."

"This way, this way, to my place!" Sonia pleaded.

"I live here!... See, that building, the second one from here... Come to me, hurry," she turned from one to the other.

"Get a doctor! Oh, man!"

Thanks to the official's efforts, the plan was adopted, and even the cop helped carry Katerina Ivanovna. She was carried to Sonia’s room, practically out cold, and laid on the bed. The bleeding was still happening, but she seemed to be coming around.

Raskolnikov, Lebeziatnikov, and the official went into the room with Sonia, and the cop followed, first pushing back the crowd that was right up to the door. Polenka came in holding Kolya and Lida, who were shaking and crying.

A few other people came in from the Kapernaumovs’ room, too - the landlord, a lame, one-eyed dude with a weird look, sporting whiskers and hair that stuck out like a brush, his wife, a woman with a constantly scared expression, and a bunch of kids with wide-eyed, amazed faces.

Among them, Svidrigaïlov suddenly showed up. Raskolnikov looked at him, totally confused, not understanding where he'd come from and not even noticing him in the crowd. A doctor and priest were mentioned.

The official whispered to Raskolnikov that he thought it was probably too late for the doctor, but he ordered them to send for one anyway. Kapernaumov took off running.

Meanwhile, Katerina Ivanovna had caught her breath. The bleeding stopped for a bit. She looked at Sonia, who was standing there, pale and trembling, wiping sweat from her forehead with a handkerchief, with sick but intense, searching eyes. Finally, she asked to be propped up.

They sat her up on the bed, supporting her on both sides.

"Where are the kids?" she asked in a weak voice. "You brought them, Polenka? Oh, you silly things! Why did you run off... Oh!"

Her dry lips were covered in blood again. She moved her eyes, looking around.

"So, this is how you live, Sonia! I’m seeing your room for the first time ever."

She looked at her with a face full of suffering.

"We’ve been your downfall, Sonia. Polenka, Lida, Kolya, come here! Well, here they are, Sonia, take them all! I’m done with them! The party’s over."

She coughed loudly again.

"Lay me down, let me die in peace."

They laid her back on the pillow.

"What, the priest? I don’t need him. You don’t have a single rouble to spare. I don’t have any sins. God has to forgive me without that. He knows how much I’ve suffered... And if He won’t forgive me, I don’t care!"

She sank deeper into a restless, confused state. Sometimes she would shudder, turn her eyes from side to side, recognize everyone for a moment, then slip back into confusion. Her breathing was raspy and difficult, with a rattling sound in her throat.

"I told him, your excellency," she gasped, pausing after each word.

"That Amalia Ludwigovna, oh! Lida, Kolya, hands on your hips, hurry up! Glissez, glissez! pas de basque! Tap your heels, be a graceful kid!"

"Du hast Diamanten und Perlen"

"What next? That's the thing to sing."

"Du hast die schönsten Augen Mädchen, was willst du mehr?"

"What an idea! What more do you want? What crazy things the fool invents! Ah, yes!"

"In the heat of midday in the vale of Dagestan."

"Oh, how I loved it! I loved that song so much, Polenka! Your dad, you know, used to sing it when we were engaged... Oh, those days! Oh, that's the thing for us to sing! How does it go? I’m blanking. Remind me! How was it?"

She was totally hyped up and tried to sit up. Finally, in a horribly hoarse, broken voice, she started, shrieking and gasping at every word, with a look of growing terror.

"In the heat of midday!... in the vale!... of Dagestan!... With lead in my breast!..."

"Your excellency!" she wailed suddenly, letting out a heart-wrenching scream and a flood of tears, "protect the orphans! You’ve been their dad’s guest... you could even call it aristocratic..."

She blinked, regaining her senses, and stared at everyone with a look of pure terror, but then she recognized Sonia.

"Sonia, Sonia!" she said softly and lovingly, as if surprised to find her there. "Sonia darling, are you here, too?"

They propped her up again.

"That’s it! It’s over! Goodbye, sweetie! I’m done for! I’m shattered!" she cried, totally heartbroken, and her head flopped back onto the pillow.

She drifted off again, but this time it didn't last. Her pale, sickly face slumped back, her mouth fell open, her leg twitched, she let out a deep, shuddering sigh, and then she was gone.

Sonia rushed to her, wrapped her arms around her, and stood frozen, her head pressed against her mom’s thin chest. Polenka threw herself at her mom’s feet, kissing them and sobbing uncontrollably. Even though Kolya and Lida didn’t get what happened, they felt like something awful had happened.

They put their hands on each other’s shoulders, stared at each other, and both screamed at the same time. They were still dressed up in their fancy clothes - one in a turban, the other with a feather in her cap.

And how did "the certificate of merit" end up on the bed next to Katerina Ivanovna? It was right there by the pillow; Raskolnikov saw it.

He walked over to the window. Lebeziatnikov bounced up to him.

"She’s dead," he said.

"Rodion Romanovitch, I need to talk to you," said Svidrigaïlov, coming up to them.

Lebeziatnikov quickly stepped aside and gave them space. Svidrigaïlov pulled Raskolnikov further away.

"I’ll handle everything - the funeral and all that. You know it’s about money, and like I said, I’m loaded."

"I’ll put those two little ones and Polenka in a good orphanage, and I’ll set aside fifteen hundred rubles for each of them when they turn eighteen, so Sofya Semyonovna won’t have to worry about them. And I’ll get her out of this mess too, she’s a good girl, right?"

He told Avdotya Romanovna that he was spending her ten thousand that way.

"What’s your angle for being so generous?" asked Raskolnikov.

"Ah! You’re such a skeptic!"

Svidrigaïlov laughed.

"I told you I didn’t need that money. Can’t you admit it’s just being a decent human being? She wasn’t ‘a louse,’ you know" (he pointed to where the dead woman lay), "was she, like some old pawnshop lady?"

"Come on, you’re going to agree, is Luzhin going to keep living and doing bad things, or is she just going to die? And if I didn’t help them, Polenka would end up the same way."

He said this with a sly, playful wink, his eyes locked on Raskolnikov, who went pale and felt ice-cold, hearing his own words, spoken to Sonia. He quickly stepped back and stared wild-eyed at Svidrigaïlov.

"How do you know?" he whispered, barely able to breathe.

"Well, I live here at Madame Resslich’s, on the other side of the wall. Here is Kapernaumov, and there lives Madame Resslich, an old and devoted friend of mine."

"I’m her neighbor." "You are?"

"Yeah," continued Svidrigaïlov, laughing.

"I swear on my honor, dear Rodion Romanovitch, that you’ve really interested me. I told you we’d become friends, I predicted it. Well, here we are. And you’ll see how easygoing I am. You’ll see you can get along with me!"