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Updated: May 19, 2025
Raskolnikov sat down; he no longer shivered, he was hot all over. In amazement he listened with strained attention to Porfiry Petrovitch who still seemed frightened as he looked after him with friendly solicitude. But he did not believe a word he said, though he felt a strange inclination to believe. Porfiry's unexpected words about the flat had utterly overwhelmed him.
Was it worth while, for instance, to manoeuvre that Svidrigailov should not go to Porfiry's? Was it worth while to investigate, to ascertain the facts, to waste time over anyone like Svidrigailov? Oh, how sick he was of it all! And yet he was hastening to Svidrigailov; could he be expecting something new from him, information, or means of escape? Men will catch at straws!
He can't be, he can't be." He rejected that idea, feeling to what a degree of fury it might drive him, feeling that that fury might drive him mad. "I was not delirious. I knew what I was doing," he cried, straining every faculty to penetrate Porfiry's game, "I was quite myself, do you hear?" "Yes, I hear and understand.
Till then, at least, he was free and must do something for himself, for the danger was imminent. But how imminent? His position gradually became clear to him. Remembering, sketchily, the main outlines of his recent scene with Porfiry, he could not help shuddering again with horror. Of course, he did not yet know all Porfiry's aims, he could not see into all his calculations.
On the way, one question particularly worried him: had Svidrigailov been to Porfiry's? As far as he could judge, he would swear to it, that he had not. He pondered again and again, went over Porfiry's visit; no, he hadn't been, of course he hadn't. But if he had not been yet, would he go? Meanwhile, for the present he fancied he couldn't. Why?
You see, there was a time.... Well, good-bye! I must be off too. I am not going to drink. There's no need now.... That's all stuff!" He hurried out; but when he had almost closed the door behind him, he suddenly opened it again, and said, looking away: "Oh, by the way, do you remember that murder, you know Porfiry's, that old woman?
But he had already partly shown his hand, and no one knew better than Raskolnikov how terrible Porfiry's "lead" had been for him. A little more and he might have given himself away completely, circumstantially. Knowing his nervous temperament and from the first glance seeing through him, Porfiry, though playing a bold game, was bound to win.
Raskolnikov made no reply; he sat pale and motionless, still gazing with the same intensity into Porfiry's face. "It's a lesson," he thought, turning cold. "This is beyond the cat playing with a mouse, like yesterday. He can't be showing off his power with no motive... prompting me; he is far too clever for that... he must have another object. What is it?
She felt for some reason ashamed and uneasy. On the way to Porfiry's, Razumihin was obviously excited. "That's capital, brother," he repeated several times, "and I am glad! I am glad!" "What are you glad about?" Raskolnikov thought to himself. "I didn't know that you pledged things at the old woman's, too. And... was it long ago? I mean, was it long since you were there?"
That is why you weighed their words... h'm... certainly, I agree, Porfiry's tone was rather strange, and still more that wretch Zametov!... You are right, there was something about him but why? Why?" "He has changed his mind since last night." "Quite the contrary!
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