Part 6 · Chapter 5

Raskolnikov trailed after him.

"What’s this?" Svidrigaïlov spun around, "I thought I said..."

"It means I’m not letting you out of my sight now."

"Seriously?" They both froze, staring each other down, like they were sizing each other up.

"From all your half-drunk stories," Raskolnikov snapped, "I’m pretty sure you haven’t given up on my sister, and you’re actually working harder than ever. I heard my sister got a letter this morning. You’ve been practically bouncing off the walls all day..."

"You might have found a wife along the way, but that doesnn't change anything. I need to be sure myself." Raskolnikov couldn’t even say exactly what he wanted to know.

"Seriously! I’m calling the cops!"

"Go ahead!"

They stood there facing off for a minute. Finally, Svidrigaïlov’s expression changed. Once he saw Raskolnikov wasn’t scared of his threat, he put on a playful, friendly face.

"What a guy! I purposely didn’t bring up your whole situation, even though I’m dying to know. It’s a wild story. I’m putting it off for now, but you’re enough to wake the dead..."

"Alright, let’s go, but heads up, I’m just heading home for a sec to grab some cash, then I’m locking up the place, taking a cab, and hitting the Islands for the evening. You coming?"

"I’m going to your place, not to see you, but Sofya Semyonovna, to apologize for missing the funeral."

"Whatever. But Sofya Semyonovna isn’t home. She took the three kids to an old, wealthy lady, a patron of some orphanages, who I used to know. I charmed the old lady by dropping some serious money with her to provide for Katerina Ivanovna’s three kids, and I’m also donating to the institution."

"I told her the whole story about Sofya Semyonovna, holding nothing back. It totally blew her mind. That’s why Sofya Semyonovna’s been invited to call at the X. Hotel today where the lady’s staying."

"Doesn’t matter, I’ll still go."

"Suit yourself, I don’t care, but I’m not coming with you. We’re home now. By the way, I’m convinced you’re suspicious of me just because I’ve been so careful and haven’t bothered you with questions... you get me? It seemed weird to you; I bet that’s it. Well, it teaches you to be delicate!"

"And to eavesdrop!"

"Ha, that’s it, huh?" Svidrigaïlov laughed.

"Yeah, I would have been surprised if you let that one slide after everything that’s happened. Ha-ha! Though I did get a sense of the pranks you’ve been pulling and telling Sofya Semyonovna about, what was the point of it? Maybe I’m just old-fashioned and don’t get it."

"For real, explain it to me, my boy. Lay out the latest theories!"

"You couldn’t have heard anything. You’re making it all up!"

"But I’m not talking about that (though I did hear something). No, I’m talking about the way you keep sighing and groaning now. The Schiller in you is in revolt every second, and now you’re telling me not to listen at doors."

If that’s how you feel, go inform the police that you had a little mishap: you made a small error in your theory. But if you’re convinced that one shouldn’t listen at doors, but one can murder old women at one’s pleasure, you’d better be off to America and hurry up. Run, young man!

"There might still be time. I’m being serious. Don’t you have the money? I’ll cover the fare."

"I’m not thinking about that at all," Raskolnikov interrupted, disgusted.

"I get it (but seriously, don’t go out of your way, don’t even talk about it if you don’t want to). You’re stressing over some stuff - moral stuff, right? Like, your duties as a person and a citizen? Just forget about it all. It's nothing to you, haha! You’ll say you’re still a man and a citizen."

"If so, you shouldn’t have gotten yourself into this mess. It’s pointless to take on something you’re not ready for. So, you should just end it, or do you not even want to?"

"You’re trying to rile me up, to make me ditch you."

"What a weirdo! But here we are. Welcome to the stairs. See, that’s the way to Sofya Semyonovna. Look, nobody’s home. You don’t believe me? Ask Kapernaumov. She leaves the key with him. Here’s Madame de Kapernaumov herself. Hey, what? She’s a little deaf. Has she gone out? Where? Did you hear?"

She’s not in and won’t be back until late tonight, probably. Well, come to my room; you wanted to see me, right? Here we are. Madame Resslich’s not home. She’s always busy, a really great woman, I promise... She could have been helpful if you’d been a little more sensible. Now, look!

I’m pulling out this five-percent bond from the bureau - see how many I still have - this one’s getting cashed today. I can’t waste any more time. The bureau’s locked, the apartment’s locked, and here we are again on the stairs. Should we grab a cab? I’m heading to the Islands. Wanna a ride?

"I’m taking this carriage. Ah, you’re saying no? You’re beat! Come for a drive! I think it’s gonna rain. Never mind, we’ll put down the hood..."

Svidrigaïlov was already in the carriage. Raskolnikov realized his suspicions were probably off, at least for now. Without saying a word, he turned and walked back towards the Hay Market.

If he’d just looked back, he could have seen Svidrigaïlov get out not a hundred paces away, ditch the cab, and walk along the sidewalk. But he’d turned the corner and couldn’t see anything. He felt seriously disgusted by Svidrigaïlov.

"To think I even considered asking for help from that crude jerk, that depraved creep and loser!" he yelled.

Raskolnikov’s judgment was a little too quick and harsh: there was something about Svidrigaïlov that gave him a certain unique, even mysterious vibe. As for his sister, Raskolnikov was sure Svidrigaïlov wouldn’t leave her alone. But it was too exhausting and unbearable to keep thinking about it.

When he was alone, he hadn’t even gone twenty paces before he sank into deep thought, like always. On the bridge, he stopped by the railing and started staring at the water. And his sister was standing right next to him.

He passed her at the entrance to the bridge without even seeing her. Dounia had never run into him like that on the street before and was totally freaked out. She froze and didn’t know whether to call out to him or not.

Suddenly, she saw Svidrigaïlov coming quickly from the direction of the Hay Market.

He seemed to be approaching carefully. He didn’t go onto the bridge, but stood aside on the sidewalk, trying not to get noticed by Raskolnikov. He’s been watching her for a while and was trying to signal to her. She thought he was trying to tell her not to talk to her brother, but to come to him.

That’s what Dounia did. She slipped past her brother and went up to Svidrigaïlov.

"Let’s get out of here," Svidrigaïlov whispered to her, "I don’t want Rodion Romanovitch to know we met. I’m telling you, I was sitting with him in the restaurant nearby, and he came looking for me. I had a tough time getting rid of him."

"He’s somehow heard about my letter to you and suspects something. It wasn’t you who told him, of course, but if not you, then who?"

"Okay, we’re past the corner now," Dounia cut in, "and my brother won’t see us. Look, I’m not going any further with this. You gotta tell me here. You can spill it all in the street."

"First off, I can’t say it in the street; secondly, you gotta have Sofya Semyonovna hear this too; and thirdly, I’m gonna show you some papers... Ugh, fine, if you’re not coming with me, I’m not gonna explain anything and I’m leaving right now."

"But seriously, don’t forget that I know a really huge, kinda crazy secret about your brother."

Dounia froze, looking at Svidrigaïlov with a searching look in her eyes.

"What are you scared of?" he asked quietly. "This isn’t the countryside. And even back home, you did more damage to me than I did to you."

"Did you tell Sofya Semyonovna?"

"Nah, I haven’t said a word to her, and I’m not even sure if she’s home right now. But probably. She buried her stepmom today - she’s not exactly hitting up social events today, you know? For now, I don’t want to talk about it with anyone, and I kinda regret even bringing it up to you."

A little slip-up is like a total betrayal when it comes to something like this. I live there, in that building - that's the porter, by the way, he knows me really well; see, he’s bowing? He sees I’m with a lady, and he’s probably already noticed your face.

That’s good if you’re nervous and suspicious about me. Sorry for being so blunt. I don’t have my own apartment; Sofya Semyonovna’s room is next to mine - she rents the place next door. The whole floor is basically just rented out rooms. Why are you acting like a little kid?

"Am I really that terrifying?"

Svidrigaïlov’s lips were twisted in a fake smile, but he was seriously stressed. His heart was pounding, and he could barely breathe. He spoke louder than usual to hide his growing excitement. But Dounia was so annoyed by his comment that she was scared of him and thought he was totally awful.

"Even though I know you’re not exactly the most honorable guy, I’m not scared of you," she said, trying to sound cool, but her face was super pale.

Svidrigaïlov stopped at Sonia’s room.

"Let me check if she’s home... Nope. How lame! But I bet she’ll be back soon. If she’s out, it’s probably to see a lady about the orphans. Their mom’s dead... I’ve been messing around and trying to sort things out for them."

If Sofya Semyonovna doesn’t come back in like, ten minutes, I’ll send her to you, today if you want. This is my place. These are my two rooms. Madame Resslich, my landlady, has the room next door. Now, check this out.

"I’m gonna show you my biggest piece of evidence: this door from my bedroom leads into two totally empty rooms that I’m renting out. Here they are... You gotta look at them closely."

Svidrigaïlov’s rooms were pretty decent, furnished. Dounia looked around suspiciously, but didn't see anything that stood out about the furniture or the layout. Still, there was something to notice - like, Svidrigaïlov’s place was sandwiched between two sets of mostly empty apartments.

His rooms weren’t entered directly from the hall, but through the landlady’s two almost empty rooms. Unlocking a door leading out of his bedroom, Svidrigaïlov showed Dounia the two empty rooms that were available to rent.

Dounia stopped in the doorway, not sure what she was supposed to be looking at, but Svidrigaïlov rushed to explain.

"Look, check out this second big room. See that door? It’s locked. There’s just one chair in both rooms, and I brought it over from my place so I could listen better. Right on the other side of the door is Sofya Semyonovna’s table; she was sitting there talking to Rodion Romanovitch."

"And I sat right here for two evenings in a row, for like, two hours each time - and yeah, I definitely picked up some stuff, what do you think?"

"You were listening?"

"Totally. Now, let’s head back to my room; we can’t just hang out here."

He led Avdotya Romanovna back to his living room and offered her a chair. He sat down across the table, like, seven feet away, but there was probably that same creepy vibe in his eyes that once freaked Dounia out. She shivered and looked around again, kinda nervously.

It was automatic; she didn’t want to seem like she was worried. But the isolated spot of Svidrigaïlov’s apartment suddenly hit her. She wanted to ask if his landlady even lived there, but she was too proud to ask. Plus, she had something else on her mind, way bigger than being scared for herself.

She was seriously stressed out.

"Here’s your letter," she said, putting it on the table. "Is what you wrote actually true? You’re hinting at a crime my brother did. You’re hinting at it way too much; you can’t even deny it now. I already heard this crazy story before you wrote, and I don’t believe a word of it."

"It’s totally gross and ridiculous. I know how and why it was made up. You don’t have any proof. You promised you’d prove it. Spill it! But let me warn you, I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you!"

Dounia said this, rushing through her words, and her face flushed for a second.

"If you didn’t believe it, why risk coming alone to my place? Why are you even here? Just out of curiosity?"

"Don’t mess with me. Just tell me!"

"Okay, you’re definitely brave. Seriously, I thought you’d have Mr. Razumihin walk you here. But he wasn’t with you, not even close. I was watching. It’s awesome that you wanted to spare Rodion Romanovitch. But everything about you is just...divine. About your brother, what am I supposed to say?"

"You just saw him yourself. What did you think?"

"That’s not all you’re basing this on, right?"

"No, not just that. But on his own words. He came here two nights in a row to see Sofya Semyonovna. I showed you where they sat. He confessed everything to her. He’s a murderer. He killed an old woman, a pawnbroker, who he’s pawned stuff with."

He killed her sister too, a traveling saleswoman named Lizaveta, who happened to be there when he was killing her sister. He killed them with an axe he brought. He killed them to rob them, and he did rob them. He took money and stuff...

"He told all of this, every word, to Sofya Semyonovna, the only person who knows his secret. But she hasn’t done anything - not with words or actions - to help him; she was as horrified as you are now. Don’t worry, she won’t rat him out."

"It can’t be," muttered Dounia, her lips pale.

She gasped for air.

"It can’t be. There wasn’t any reason, no basis for it... It’s a lie, a lie!"

"He robbed her, that was the reason - he took money and things. He admits he didn’t use the money or the things, but hid them under a rock, where they still are. But he was too scared to use them."

"But how could he steal, rob? How could he even think about it?" cried Dounia, and she jumped up from the chair. "You know him, you’ve seen him - can he be a thief?"

She seemed to be begging Svidrigaïlov; she’d completely forgotten to be afraid.

"There are tons and tons of possibilities, Avdotya Romanovna. A thief steals and knows he’s a bad guy, but I heard of a total VIP who broke into the mail. Seriously! Who knows, maybe he thought he was doing the right thing! I wouldn’t have believed it if anyone told me, but I heard it myself."

"He even explained everything to Sofya Semyonovna, but she didn’t believe it at first, though she saw it with her own eyes eventually."

"Wait... what were the reasons?"

"It’s a long story, Avdotya Romanovna. Basically - it’s like a theory, you know? I think, for example, that one mistake is okay if the main goal is good, like one bad thing followed by a ton of good ones!"

It’s annoying, though, for a talented, super-confident guy to know that if he had just three grand, his whole life would be different - but he doesn't have it.

Add to that, being stressed out from being hungry, living in a dump, wearing rags, and feeling like a big deal because of his social status and his mom’s and sister’s status too. Mostly, though, it’s ego, pride, and ego - even though he probably has some good qualities too...

I’m not blaming him, okay? Plus, it’s not my business.

There was also this weird little theory - another theory - dividing people into "material" people and "superior" people, people to whom the law doesn't apply because they’re so awesome, and they make the laws for everyone else, the "material" people, that is.

It sounds cool as a theory, like any other theory. Napoleon really impressed him, you know? What got to him was that a bunch of geniuses haven’t hesitated to do wrong, just breaking the rules without even thinking about it. He thought he was a genius too - at least, he believed it for a while.

"He’s been hurting a lot and still is, because he wanted to come up with a theory, but he couldn't boldly break the law, so he’s not a genius. And that's embarrassing for a proud young guy, especially these days..."

"But what about feeling bad? Are you saying he has no morals? Is he like that?"

"Ah, Avdotya Romanovna, everything’s a mess now; it never really was in great shape. Russians, in general, have big ideas, Avdotya Romanovna - as big as our country - and they’re super into the fantastical and chaotic. But it’s a bummer to be big-thinking without being a genius."

Remember all the talks we had on this topic, sitting on the terrace after dinner? You used to call me out for being too open-minded! Who knows, maybe we were talking at the exact time he was lying here figuring out his plan.

We don't have a lot of sacred traditions, especially in educated circles, Avdotya Romanovna. At best, someone will just make them up themselves from books or some old history book. But those are mostly for scholars and old-timers, so it would be almost rude for a social butterfly.

"You know my opinions in general, though. I never blame anyone. I just... don’t do anything. But we’re talked about this before. I was so glad to get you interested in my ideas... You look really pale, Avdotya Romanovna."

"I know his theory. I read that article of his about people to whom all is permitted. Razumihin brought it to me."

"Mr. Razumihin? Your brother’s article? In a magazine? There’s an article like that? I didn’t know. It must be interesting. But where are you going, Avdotya Romanovna?"

"I want to see Sofya Semyonovna," Dounia said quietly. "How do I get to her? She’s probably already inside. I have to see her right away. Maybe she..."

Avdotya Romanovna couldn’t finish. She literally ran out of breath.

"Sofya Semyonovna won’t be back until tonight, I think. She was supposed to be back already, but if not, she’s not coming back until really late."

"You’re lying! I see it... you were lying the whole time... I don’t believe you! I don’t believe you!" cried Dounia, totally losing it.

Almost fainting, she sank into a chair that Svidrigaïlov quickly handed her.

"Avdotya Romanovna, what’s wrong? Calm down! Here, drink some water..."

He sprinkled some water on her. Dounia shuddered and started to come around.

"That was intense," Svidrigaïlov muttered to himself, frowning.

"Avdotya Romanovna, chill out! Believe me, he has friends. We’ll save him. Wanna me to get him out of the country? I’m loaded, I can grab a ticket in like three days. And as for what he did, he’s gonna do tons of good stuff to make up for it. Seriously, he could even become a great man."

"How are you doing? How do you feel?"

"You’ve got to be kidding me! To joke about this? Let me go..."

"Where are you going?"

"To him. Where is he? Do you know? Why is this door locked? We came in through that door, and now it’s locked. When did you lock it?"

"We couldn’t be yelling about this all over the place. I’m not trying to be insensitive, it’s just... I’m tired of talking like this. But how can you go in that state? You’ll betray him! You’ll drive him to lose it, and he’s gonna turn himself in."

Seriously, they’re already watching him, they’re on his trail. You’re just giving him away. Just wait a bit: I saw him and was talking to him just now. He can still be saved. Just wait, sit down; let’s figure this out together.

"I asked you to come here so we could talk about it alone and think it through. But please, sit down!"

"How can you save him? Can he really be saved?"

Dounia sat down. Svidrigaïlov sat down next to her.

"It all depends on you, on you, on you alone," he began, his eyes practically glowing, almost whispering, struggling to get the words out because he was so emotional.

Dounia recoiled from him in alarm. He was shaking all over, too.

"Just... one word from you, and he’s saved. I... I’ll save him. I’m loaded and I’m connected. I’ll get him out of here fast. I’ll get a passport, two passports, one for him and one for me. I have friends... really capable people... If you want, I’ll get a passport for you... for your mom..."

What do you even want with Razumihin? I’m into you too... I’m crazy about you... Let me just kiss the hem of your dress, let me, let me... The way it rustles is driving me wild. Just tell me, ‘do this,’ and I’ll do it. I’ll do anything - anything! Don’t, don’t look at me like that.

"Do you know that you’re killing me?"

He was practically losing it. Something seemed to snap inside him. Dounia jumped up and ran to the door.

"Open it! Open it!" she yelled, shaking the door. "Open it! Is anyone there?"

Svidrigaïlov got up and seemed to snap back to reality. His still-trembling lips slowly twisted into an angry, mocking smile.

"No one’s home," he said quietly and firmly. "The landlady went out, and it’s pointless to yell like that. You’re just making yourself more upset."

"Where’s the key? Open the door now, base man!"

"I lost the key and can’t find it."

"This is ridiculous!" cried Dounia, turning as pale as death.

She rushed to the farthest corner and quickly barricaded herself with a little table.

She didn’t scream, but she stared at her tormentor, watching every move he made.

Svidrigaïlov remained standing at the other end of the room, facing her. He looked calm, at least on the surface, but his face was as pale as before. The mocking smile didn’t leave his face.

"You were talking about being outraged just now, Avdotya Romanovna. So, yeah, I took steps. Sofya Semyonovna isn’t here. The Kapernaumovs are way out - there are five locked rooms between us. I’m way stronger than you are, and I’m not afraid of anything, plus, you couldn’t complain about it later."

"You wouldn't actually betray your brother, would you? Besides, nobody would believe you. How would a girl even visit a guy alone in his place? So, even if you did throw your brother under the bus, you couldn’t prove anything. It’s really hard to prove an assault, Avdotya Romanovna."

"You jerk!" whispered Dounia, totally annoyed.

"Whatever, but I was just saying that in general. Honestly, I think you’re right - violence is awful. I just wanted to show you that you don't need to feel guilty, even if... you were willing to save your brother on your own, like I’m suggesting."

"You’d just be going with the flow, giving in to violence, if you catch my drift. Think about it. Your brother and your mom’s fate is in your hands. I’ll be your slave... for the rest of my life... I’ll wait here."

Svidrigaïlov plopped down on the sofa, about eight steps from Dounia. She knew he was serious now. Plus, she knew him. Suddenly, she pulled a revolver out of her pocket, cocked it, and put it on the table in her hand. Svidrigaïlov jumped up.

"Aha! So that’s how it is, huh?" he said, surprised but grinning mischievously. "Well, you’ve totally made things easier for me, Avdotya Romanovna. But where did you get the revolver? Was it Mr. Razumihin? Wait, that’s my revolver, an old friend! And I’ve been hunting for it!"

"All those shooting lessons I gave you in the countryside weren’t for nothing."

"It’s not your revolver, it belonged to Marfa Petrovna, who you killed, you monster! Nothing of yours was in her house. I took it when I started to suspect what you were capable of. If you take one step closer, I swear I’ll shoot you."

She was freaking out.

"But your brother? I’m just curious," said Svidrigaïlov, still standing there.

"Tell, if you want to! Don’t move! Don’t come any closer! I’ll shoot! You poisoned your wife, I know; you’re a murderer yourself!"

She kept the revolver ready.

"Are you so sure I poisoned Marfa Petrovna?"

"You did! You hinted it yourself; you talked to me about poison... I know you went to get it... you had it ready... it was your doing... it had to be your doing... you jerk!"

"Even if that were true, it would have been for your sake... you would have been the reason."

"You’re lying! I’ve always hated you, always..."

"Oho, Avdotya Romanovna! You seem to have forgotten how you softened toward me during all that propaganda. I saw it in your eyes. Do you remember that moonlight night, when the nightingale was singing?"

"That’s a lie," there was a flash of fury in Dounia’s eyes, "that’s a lie and a total fabrication!"

"A lie? Fine, it’s a lie. I made it up. Women shouldn’t be reminded of stuff like that," he smiled.

"I know you’re going to shoot, you pretty wild thing. Well, shoot away!"

Dounia raised the revolver, and deadly pale, stared at him, measuring the distance and waiting for him to move. Her lower lip was white and trembling and her big black eyes flashed like fire. He’s never seen her so gorgeous.

The fire glowing in her eyes when she raised the revolver seemed to ignite him, and there was a pang of anguish in his heart. He took a step forward and a shot rang out. The bullet grazed his hair and flew into the wall behind. He stood still and laughed softly.

"Ugh, a wasp stung me! She went straight for my head. What the - ? Blood?" he pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the blood, which was trickling down his temple.

It looked like the bullet barely grazed him.

Dounia lowered the gun and stared at Svidrigaïlov, not really scared, but totally freaked out. She seemed lost, like she didn't even know what she was doing or what was going on.

"Well, you missed! Try again, I’ll wait," Svidrigaïlov said softly, still smiling, but with a dark look in his eyes. "If you keep messing up like that, I’ll grab you before you even get a chance to reload."

Dounia jumped, quickly cocked the pistol and raised it again.

"Leave me alone!" she cried in desperation. "I swear, I’ll shoot again. I... I’ll kill you."

"Okay... at this close range, you’re practically guaranteed to hit. But if you don’t..." His eyes flashed, and he took two steps forward.

Dounia fired again: it misfired.

"You didn’t load it right. Never mind, you’re still got another shot in there. Get it ready, I’ll wait."

He stood facing her, just two feet away, waiting and staring at her with a wild, intense look, like he was totally set on something. Dounia realized he’d rather die than let her go.

"And... now she’s going to kill him, at two paces!"

Suddenly, she tossed the revolver away.

"She dropped it!" Svidrigaïlov said, surprised, and he took a deep breath.

It was like a weight lifted off his chest - maybe not just the fear of dying, because he probably didn't even feel that right now. It was more like he was relieved from another feeling, darker and way more bitter, that he couldn’t even put into words.

He went to Dounia and gently put his arm around her waist. She didn’t resist, but, trembling like crazy, looked at him with pleading eyes. He tried to say something, but his lips moved without making a sound.

"Let me go," Dounia begged.

Svidrigaïlov shuddered. Her voice now sounded totally different.

"So... you don’t love me?" he asked softly.

Dounia shook her head.

"And... you can’t? Ever?" he whispered in despair.

"Never!" There was a moment of intense, silent struggle in Svidrigaïlov’s heart.

He looked at her with an indescribable look. Suddenly, he pulled his arm away, turned quickly toward the window, and stood facing it. Another moment passed.

"Here’s the key."

He took it out of the left pocket of his coat and put it on the table behind him, without turning or looking at Dounia.

"Take it! Hurry!" He stared stubbornly out of the window.

Dounia went to the table to grab the key.

"Hurry! Hurry!" repeated Svidrigaïlov, still without turning or moving.

But there was a really scary meaning in the way he said "hurry."

Dounia understood, snatched up the key, flew to the door, unlocked it quickly, and rushed out of the room. A minute later, totally freaked out, she ran out onto the canal bank in the direction of X Bridge.

Svidrigaïlov stood at the window for three minutes. Finally, he slowly turned, looked around, and wiped his forehead with his hand. A weird smile twisted his face - a pathetic, sad, weak smile, a smile of total despair. The blood, which was already drying, smeared his hand.

He glared at it, then wet a towel and washed his temple. The revolver that Dounia had thrown away lay near the door and suddenly caught his eye. He picked it up and examined it. It was a small, old-fashioned pocket pistol with three barrels. There were still two charges and one capsule left in it.

It could be fired again. He thought for a moment, put the revolver in his pocket, grabbed his hat, and went out.