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Updated: May 22, 2025
Raskolnikov gave his visitor a seat with so pleased and friendly an expression that he would have marvelled at himself, if he could have seen it. The last moment had come, the last drops had to be drained! So a man will sometimes go through half an hour of mortal terror with a brigand, yet when the knife is at his throat at last, he feels no fear.
That evening Razumihin and she agreed what answers they must make to her mother's questions about Raskolnikov and made up a complete story for her mother's benefit of his having to go away to a distant part of Russia on a business commission, which would bring him in the end money and reputation.
That's the sort of man he is, if you care to know." "Good heavens!" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna. Raskolnikov listened attentively. "Are you speaking the truth when you say that you have good evidence of this?" Dounia asked sternly and emphatically. "I only repeat what I was told in secret by Marfa Petrovna. I must observe that from the legal point of view the case was far from clear.
The student spoke about her with a peculiar relish and was continually laughing and the officer listened with great interest and asked him to send Lizaveta to do some mending for him. Raskolnikov did not miss a word and learned everything about her. Lizaveta was younger than the old woman and was her half-sister, being the child of a different mother. She was thirty-five.
They looked at one another. "I was vexed. When you came, perhaps in drink, and bade the porters go to the police station and asked about the blood, I was vexed that they let you go and took you for drunken. I was so vexed that I lost my sleep. And remembering the address we came here yesterday and asked for you...." "Who came?" Raskolnikov interrupted, instantly beginning to recollect.
The door opened gently and slowly, and there suddenly appeared a figure yesterday's visitor from underground. The man stood in the doorway, looked at Raskolnikov without speaking, and took a step forward into the room. He was exactly the same as yesterday; the same figure, the same dress, but there was a great change in his face; he looked dejected and sighed deeply.
At least then it would be done privately.... No, no! To the "explosive lieutenant"! If he must drink it, drink it off at once. Turning cold and hardly conscious, he opened the door of the office. There were very few people in it this time only a house porter and a peasant. The doorkeeper did not even peep out from behind his screen. Raskolnikov walked into the next room.
"It's in the houses of spiteful old widows that one finds such cleanliness," Raskolnikov thought again, and he stole a curious glance at the cotton curtain over the door leading into another tiny room, in which stood the old woman's bed and chest of drawers and into which he had never looked before. These two rooms made up the whole flat.
But if you are convinced that one mustn't listen at doors, but one may murder old women at one's pleasure, you'd better be off to America and make haste. Run, young man! There may still be time. I'm speaking sincerely. Haven't you the money? I'll give you the fare." "I'm not thinking of that at all," Raskolnikov interrupted with disgust.
"But what, what does he want to propose to Dounia?" cried Pulcheria Alexandrovna in a fright. "Did he tell you?" "Yes." "What was it?" "I'll tell you afterwards." Raskolnikov ceased speaking and turned his attention to his tea. Pyotr Petrovitch looked at his watch.
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