Part 6 · Chapter 4

"You know, maybe - yeah, I told you myself," Svidrigaïlov began, "that I was in jail for a ton of money, and I didn't think I'd ever be able to pay it off. No need to go into all the details about how Marfa Petrovna got me out; do you know how crazy a woman can get when she loves someone?"

She was a good, honest woman, and pretty smart, even though she didn't have much schooling. Can you believe that this honest, jealous woman, after tons of meltdowns and accusations, actually agreed to a kind of deal with me that she stuck to our whole marriage?

She was a lot older than me, and she always had something in her mouth - like a clove. There was so much messed-up stuff in me, but also some honesty, I guess, so I told her straight up that I couldn't be completely faithful to her.

That confession totally freaked her out, but somehow she seemed to like my bluntness. She thought it showed I was being upfront and wasn't trying to trick her - and for a jealous woman, that’s a big deal.

After a lot of tears, we made an unwritten agreement: first, I would never leave Marfa Petrovna and would always be her husband; second, I wouldn’t leave without her permission; third, I wouldn’t have a permanent girlfriend; fourth, in return, she let me hook up with the maids, but only if she knew about it; fifth, God forbid I’d fall for a woman of our social class; sixth, if - knock on wood - I got really serious about someone, I had to tell Marfa Petrovna.

But on that last point, she wasn’t too worried. She was smart and figured I was a total player, incapable of real love. But a smart woman and a jealous woman are two different things, and that's where things got complicated.

But to really understand people, we have to ditch some of our assumptions and how we usually see the people around us. I trust your judgment more than anyone's. You’ve probably heard a lot of ridiculous stuff about Marfa Petrovna.

She definitely had some weird habits, but I'm telling you, I really feel bad about all the trouble I caused her. Okay, that's enough of a sad send-off for the most loving wife of a pretty clueless husband.

When we fought, I usually kept my mouth shut and didn't make things worse, and that respectful behavior usually worked - it influenced her, it pleased her, actually. Those were times when she was genuinely proud of me. But your sister? She couldn’t stand her, not even a little.

And how did she risk bringing such a gorgeous girl into her house as a governess? My explanation is that Marfa Petrovna was a passionate and impressionable woman and totally fell for her - literally fell for her - with your sister. Well, can you blame her - look at Avdotya Romanovna!

I saw the danger right away, and you know what, I decided not to even look at her.

Seriously, Avdotya Romanovna made the first move, can you even imagine? And you won’t believe this, but Marfa Petrovna was actually mad at me at first!

She was ticked off because I kept being so quiet about your sister, and because I didn't seem that interested in all the gushing praise Marfa Petrovna kept throwing at Avdotya Romanovna. I have no clue what she was angling for!

Anyway, Marfa Petrovna totally spilled all the details about me to Avdotya Romanovna. She had this bad habit of telling everyone our family secrets and constantly complaining about me. How could she not tell such a cool new friend?

I’m pretty sure they talked about nothing else but me, and Avdotya Romanovna probably heard all those weird rumors going around about me...

"I bet you’ve already heard some of that stuff too, right?"

"I did. Luzhin accused you of causing a kid’s death. Is that right?"

"Seriously, don’t bring up those trashy stories," Svidrigaïlov said, clearly grossed out and annoyed. "If you’re really set on hearing about all that nonsense, I’ll tell you eventually, but not now..."

"I also heard something about a guy who worked for you out in the countryside, and you treated him horribly."

"Please, drop it," Svidrigaïlov cut him off again, looking super impatient.

"Was that the guy who came to you after he died to help you pack your pipe?... you told me about him yourself."

Raskolnikov was getting seriously frustrated. Svidrigaïlov stared at him, and Raskolnikov thought he saw a hint of mean mockery in his eyes. But Svidrigaïlov held back and answered very

"Yeah, it was. I see you’re really into this too, and I’m gonna do my best to satisfy your curiosity as soon as I can. Seriously! I’m starting to think some people might even see me as a romantic type. Can you believe it?"

I owe so much to Marfa Petrovna for telling Avdotya Romanovna all that weird and interesting gossip about me. I’m not even gonna guess what she thought about it, but it definitely worked in my favor.

Despite Avdotya Romanovna’s natural dislike and even though I always look kind of gloomy and off-putting, she at least felt sorry for me - like, a lost cause. And when a girl feels pity for someone, that’s seriously dangerous.

She’s gonna want to ‘fix’ them, bring them back to their senses, lift them up, and get them back on track - basically, give them a fresh start. We all know how those kinds of dreams can go, right? I realized that girl was totally falling for me, and I was ready for it.

You look like you’re frowning, Rodion Romanovitch? Don't worry about it. Like you know, it all ended up going nowhere. (Seriously, what am I drinking?)

You know, I’ve always, from the very beginning, wished your sister had been born in the second or third century A.D., like, the daughter of a ruler or a governor somewhere in Asia Minor. She’d have been one of those who would endure suffering and smile when they branded her chest with hot irons.

She’d have done it on her own. And in the fourth or fifth century, she’d have wandered off into the Egyptian desert and spent thirty years living on roots and spiritual experiences and visions.

She’s just dying to face some kind of hardship for someone, and if she can’t get it, she’s gonna jump out a window. I’m hearing stuff about a Mr. Razumihin - apparently, he’s a smart guy; his last name kinda suggests it, right? Probably a divinity student. Well, he better take care of your sister!

I get her, and I’m kinda proud of it. But at the beginning of a relationship, you know, you’re often careless and clueless. You don't see things clearly. Seriously, why is she so gorgeous? It’s not my fault. It actually started with a really strong physical attraction on my side.

Avdotya Romanovna is incredibly pure, like, seriously and unbelievably so. Take note, I’m telling you this about your sister as a fact. She's almost obsessively pure, despite being super smart, and it’s gonna hold her back.

There was a girl in the house then, Parasha, a dark-eyed girl, whom I’d never seen before - she’d just come from another village - really pretty, but incredibly dumb: she burst into tears, wailed so loud you could hear her all over the place and caused a huge scene.

One day after dinner, Avdotya Romanovna followed me into a path in the garden and with intense eyes insisted on my leaving poor Parasha alone. It was pretty much our first real conversation by ourselves.

"Of course, I was more than happy to do what she wanted, tried to look surprised and embarrassed, actually played the part pretty well. Then came conversations, mysterious talks, encouragement, pleading, even tears - can you believe it, even tears?"

Think what obsession with manipulation can do to girls! I, of course, blamed it all on fate, pretended to be desperate for enlightenment, and finally used the ultimate weapon for winning over a woman's heart - a weapon that never fails. It’s the obvious trick - sweet-talking.

Seriously, nothing’s harder than telling the truth, and nothing’s easier than flattery. If there’s even a tiny bit of doubt in what you're saying honestly, it creates tension, and that leads to problems.

But if every word of flattery is completely fake, it’s still pleasing, and people listen with satisfaction. It might be a shallow satisfaction, but it’s still something. And even the cheesiest flattery, at least half of it will seem true.

That’s true for everyone, no matter their background or where they are in life. A super religious girl could fall for flattery. I still laugh thinking about how I once charmed a woman who was devoted to her husband, her kids, and her values. It was so much fun and so easy!

And she really had values - her own, anyway. My whole strategy was just to seem totally crushed and defeated by her goodness.

I showered her with compliments, and as soon as I got a handshake or even a glance, I’d feel bad for taking it, declaring she’d resisted and I could never have gotten anything without being so shady.

I’d say she was so pure she couldn’t even see my deception, and that she was yielding to me without realizing it. Basically, I won, while she stayed firmly convinced that she was innocent, faithful, and doing her duty.

And how mad she got when I finally told her that I genuinely believed she felt the same way! Poor Marfa Petrovna was seriously weak when it came to flattery, and if I’d really wanted to, I could have had all her stuff transferred to me while she was alive.

(I’m drinking a ton of wine now and rambling too much.) I hope you won’t mind me mentioning that I was starting to have the same effect on Avdotya Romanovna. But I was dumb and impatient and messed it all up.

Avdotya Romanovna had been really bothered by the look in my eyes - several times, especially once. There was something in them that scared her, and it got stronger and stronger until it became unbearable. I don’t need to go into details, but we ended things. There I acted stupid again.

I started making fun of all that propaganda and attempts to convert me; Parasha showed up again, and it wasn’t just her - there was a huge scene. Oh, Rodion Romanovitch, if you could only see how your sister’s eyes can flash sometimes!

Forget that I’m drunk right now and have downed a whole glass of wine. I’m telling the truth. I swear that look has haunted my dreams; even the rustle of her dress was too much for me to handle. I really started to think I might have epilepsy. I never thought I could be moved to such a frenzy.

It was super important to make things right, but by then, it was just impossible. And you won’t believe what I did next! How crazy can a person get when they're totally losing it? Seriously, don’t do anything when you're in a frenzy, Rodion Romanovitch.

I realized that Avdotya Romanovna was basically broke - ugh, that’s not quite the right way to put it, but does it even matter if it gets the point across? She made her own money, and she had her mom and you to take care of.

So, I decided to give her all my cash - thirty thousand rubles I could’ve gotten then - if she’s just ditch with me to Petersburg. Of course, I would’ve promised her forever love, total bliss, and all that.

Seriously, I was so obsessed with her at that time that if she’d told me to poison Marfa Petrovna or cut her throat and then marry her, I would’ve done it instantly! But it all ended in the disaster you already know about.

Just imagine how stressed I was when I heard that Marfa Petrovna had gotten a shady lawyer, Luzhin, and was basically trying to set them up - which would’ve been the exact same thing I was planning! Wouldn’t it? Wouldn’t it? I see you’re getting really into this... you interesting young dude...

Svidrigaïlov slammed his fist on the table, clearly annoyed. He was flushed, and Raskolnikov realized the glass or so of champagne he’s been sipping without even noticing was messing with him - and he decided to use it to his advantage. He seriously distrusted Svidrigaïlov.

"Okay, after everything you’ve said, I’m totally convinced you came to Petersburg with a plan for my sister," he said, staring directly at Svidrigaïlov, trying to push his buttons.

"Seriously? That’s ridiculous," Svidrigaïlov said, seeming to shake himself. "I told you... besides, my sister can’t even stand me."

"Yeah, I’m sure she doesn’t, but that’s not the point."

"Are you so sure she doesn’t?"

Svidrigaïlov squinted and smirked mockingly.

"You’re right, she doesn’t love me, but you can never really know what’s happened between a husband and wife or a lover and their partner. There’s always a little secret corner, known only to those two. Can you swear on it that Avdotya Romanovna felt disgusted by me?"

"From some of the things you’ve said, I get the feeling you still have a plan - and a bad one - for Dounia, and you’re planning to act on it fast."

"Did I say something like that?" Svidrigaïlov asked, feigning surprise, totally ignoring the word "bad" used to describe his plan.

"You’re dropping hints right now. Why are you so jumpy? What are you so scared of?"

"Me - scared? Scared of you? You should be afraid of me, my friend. But that’s crazy... I’ve had too much to drink, I see that. I was almost saying too much again. Ugh, this wine! Water, please!"

He grabbed the champagne bottle and tossed it out the window without a second thought. Philip brought the water.

"That’s all nonsense!" Svidrigaïlov said, soaking a towel and putting it to his forehead. "But I can answer you in one word and shut down all your suspicions. Do you know I’m getting married?"

"You told me that before."

"Did I? I forgot. But I couldn’t have told you for sure, because I hadn't even seen my fiancée yet - I just intended to."

But now I really do have a fiancée, it's a done deal, and if it weren't for some business I can’t put off, I’d have taken you to meet them right away - I’d like to ask for your advice. Ach, shoot, only ten minutes left! Look at the watch.

"But I gotta tell you, my marriage is a pretty interesting story, in its own way. Where are you off to? Leaving again?"

"Nah, I’m not going anywhere now."

"Really? We’ll see. I’ll take you there, I’ll show you my fiancée, but not right now. You’ll have to head off soon. You go right, and I go left. Do you know Madame Resslich, the woman I’m staying with, right?"

I know what you’re thinking - that she’s the woman whose daughter they say drowned herself last winter. Come on, are you listening? She set all this up for me. ‘You’re bored,’ she said, ‘you need something to do. You know, I’m a pretty down and depressed person.

Do you think I’m a happy-go-lucky type? Nope, I’m gloomy. I don’t cause trouble, but I’ll just sit in a corner without saying a word for days. And that Resslich is a sly fox, I’ll tell you.

I know what she’s got in her head; she thinks I’ll get sick of it, ditch my wife, and leave - and then she’ll get hold of her and make a profit. In our social circle, or higher up, of course.

She told me the dad was a retired bureaucrat, a real mess, who’s been stuck in a chair for the last three years with paralyzed legs. The mom, she said, was a sensible woman. There’s a son working in a distant town, but he doesn’t help out. There’s a married daughter, but she doesn’t visit.

And they’ve got two little nephews - as if they didn’t have enough kids already - and they’re keeping their youngest daughter out of school, a girl who’ll be sixteen in a month, so they can get her married. She was supposed to be for me. We went there. It was so weird!

I present myself - a landowner, a widower, from a well-known family, with connections, with a fortune. Who cares if I’m fifty and she’s not even sixteen? No one thinks about that! But it’s fascinating, isn’t it? Seriously fascinating, haha! You should have seen how I talked to the dad and mom.

It was worth paying to watch me at that moment. She comes in, curtseys, you can imagine, still in a short dress - an unopened flower! Her cheeks were flushed like a sunset - she’d been told, no doubt.

I don’t know how you feel about girls’ faces, but to me, sixteen years old, those innocent eyes, that shy bashfulness are better than any beauty. And she’s a perfect little picture, too. Fair hair in little curls, like a lamb’s, full little rosy lips, tiny feet - a total charmer!

Well, we became friends. I told them I was in a rush because of family stuff, and the next day - that is, the day before yesterday - we got engaged. Now when I go, I just pick her up and hold her - it’s like that. Well, she blushes like a sunset, and I kiss her every minute.

Her mom, of course, keeps reminding her that this is her husband and that this is how it has to be. It’s just amazing! Being engaged is maybe even better than marriage. You get what they call la nature et la vérité, haha! I’ve talked to her twice, and she’s way smarter than she looks.

Sometimes she gives me a look that burns right through me. Her face is like Raphael’s Madonna. You know, the face of the Sistine Madonna has something unreal about it, that face of sad, religious ecstasy. Have you noticed? Well, she’s got something like that going on.

The day after we got engaged, I bought her gifts worth fifteen hundred rubles - a diamond necklace and a pearl set, and a silver vanity case as big as this one, filled with all sorts of things - even my Madonna’s face glowed.

I had her sit on my lap yesterday, and I guess I was a little rough - she went totally red and her eyes started to well up, but she didn’t want to show it.

We were alone, and then suddenly she threw herself against my neck (the first time she’s ever done it on her own!), wrapped her little arms around me, kissed me, and promised she’d be an obedient, loyal, and good wife, would make me happy, would dedicate her whole life, every single minute of it, would give up everything, seriously everything, and all she asks in return is my respect, and that she wants ‘absolutely nothing more from me, no gifts.’

You have to admit, hearing a confession like that, alone, from a sixteen-year-old girl in a simple dress, with cute curls, a blush of shyness on her cheeks, and tears of excitement in her eyes is pretty amazing! Isn’t it amazing? Totally worth it, right?

"Okay, so... listen, we’ll go see my fiancée, just not right now!"

"Seriously, that huge age gap and how different you two are just makes it way too... intense! Are you really going through with this marriage?"

"Duh. Everyone’s got their own thing, and the happiest people are the best at fooling themselves. Haha! But why are you so hung up on being good?"

"Have some mercy, buddy. I’m a mess. Haha-ha!"

"But you’re taking care of Katerina Ivanovna’s kids. Even though... even though you had your own reasons... I get it now."

"I’m always a sucker for kids, really am," Svidrigaïlov laughed.

"Let me tell you something wild. The first time I came back here, I hit the scene, after seven years. I didn’t rush to reconnect with my old crew. I’ll skip them as long as I can."

You know, when I was out in the country with Marfa Petrovna, I was obsessed with these places where you can find... well, a lot. Swear to you!

The peasants have vodka, the bored young people waste their lives on crazy dreams and theories, the Jews are raking in cash, and everyone else is just partying. From the moment I got back, the town reeked of its usual smells.

I stumbled into this... place - I like my spots gritty - it was a dance, supposedly, and the cancan was insane. Seriously, I'd never seen anything like it. That’s progress, right there.

Then I saw this little girl, maybe thirteen, dressed nicely, dancing with some... expert, and another guy across from them. Her mom was just sitting on a chair by the wall. You wouldn't believe that cancan! The girl was embarrassed, blushing, then felt totally disrespected, and started crying.

Her partner grabbed her and started spinning her around, showing off, and everyone was laughing - and, honestly, I even like this crowd, even the cancan crowd - they were shouting, ‘Serves her right! Shouldn’t bring kids! It’s not my place to decide if that thought made sense or not.

I just figured out my plan, sat down next to the mom, and started by saying I was a stranger too, and that people here were rude and didn’t know how to treat decent people. I let her know I had money, and offered to take them home in my car. I took them home and got to know them.

They were living in this tiny, awful apartment and had just arrived from the country. She said they considered knowing me an honor. I learned they had nothing and came to town for some legal stuff. I offered to help, with money too.

"Turns out, they accidentally ended up at the dance hall, thinking it was a real dance class. I offered to help the girl learn French and dancing. They jumped at the offer - it was an honor to them - and we’re still cool. We could go see them, if you want, but not right now."

"Woah, hold up! Enough with your gross, messed-up stories, you depraved, freaky guy!"

"Schiller, you’re just like Schiller! O la vertu va-t-elle se nicher? But I’m gonna keep telling you these things just to hear you freak out!"

"Yeah, I guess. I can see I’m being ridiculous myself," Raskolnikov muttered angrily.

Svidrigaïlov burst out laughing; finally he called Philip, paid the bill, and started to get up.

"Seriously, I’m wasted, assez causé," he said. "It’s been a blast."

"You think so? It must be a blast! Raskolnikov said, getting up. "No doubt it’s a thrill for a washed-up loser to describe adventures like that with a crazy plan in his head - especially under these circumstances and to a guy like me... It’s a rush!"

"Seriously, if you’re gonna go there," Svidrigaïlov said, checking out Raskolnikov with a little surprise. "You’re a total cynic yourself, you know? You’ve got plenty to be one, anyway. You get it... and you can do a lot too. But whatever."

"I’m really bummed we didn’t chat more, but I’m not gonna forget about you... Just you wait."

Svidrigaïlov headed out of the restaurant. Raskolnikov followed. He wasn't super drunk, actually; the wine had just hit him for a sec, but it was wearing off quick. He was totally focused on something important and had this frown going.

He seemed hyped up and nervous, like he was waiting for something big to happen. The way he was talking to Raskolnikov had changed in the last few minutes - he was getting way more rude and sarcastic every second. Raskolnikov picked up on it and felt uneasy himself.

He got super suspicious of Svidrigaïlov and decided to tail him.

They stepped onto the sidewalk.

"You go right, I’ll go left, or whatever. Later, mon plaisir, we’ll bump into each other again."

And he turned right, heading toward the Hay Market.