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Updated: May 22, 2025
He was about to turn back wondering why he had come to the X. Prospect, when suddenly at one of the end windows he saw Svidrigailov, sitting at a tea-table right in the open window with a pipe in his mouth. Raskolnikov was dreadfully taken aback, almost terrified.
The stairs went up from the street. Raskolnikov walked with lagging steps, as though still hesitating whether to go or not. But nothing would have turned him back: his decision was taken. "Besides, it doesn't matter, they still know nothing," he thought, "and they are used to thinking of me as eccentric." He was appallingly dressed: his clothes torn and dirty, soaked with a night's rain.
Luzhin, she is taking money just the same, only from another man. Don't be angry, Rodion Romanovitch, think it over coolly and quietly." Svidrigailov himself was exceedingly cool and quiet as he was saying this. "I beg you to say no more," said Raskolnikov. "In any case this is unpardonable impertinence." "Not in the least.
"I do," Raskolnikov answered firmly; as he said these words and during the whole preceding tirade he kept his eyes on one spot on the carpet. "And... and do you believe in God? Excuse my curiosity." "I do," repeated Raskolnikov, raising his eyes to Porfiry. "And... do you believe in Lazarus' rising from the dead?" "I... I do. Why do you ask all this?" "You believe it literally?" "Literally."
"Nothing," Raskolnikov answered faintly, turning to the wall. All were silent for a while. "He must have waked from a dream," Razumihin said at last, looking inquiringly at Zossimov. The latter slightly shook his head. "Well, go on," said Zossimov. "What next?" "What next?
"Why do you... come and ask for me... and say nothing.... What's the meaning of it?" Raskolnikov's voice broke and he seemed unable to articulate the words clearly. The man raised his eyes this time and turned a gloomy sinister look at Raskolnikov. "Murderer!" he said suddenly in a quiet but clear and distinct voice. Raskolnikov went on walking beside him.
Raskolnikov was silent, keeping his eyes fixed on Sonia, except for an occasional rapid glance at Luzhin. Sonia stood still, as though unconscious. She was hardly able to feel surprise. Suddenly the colour rushed to her cheeks; she uttered a cry and hid her face in her hands. "No, it wasn't I! I didn't take it!
I was reckoning on your temperament, Rodion Romanovitch, on your temperament above all things! I had great hopes of you at that time." "But what are you driving at now?" Raskolnikov muttered at last, asking the question without thinking. "What is he talking about?" he wondered distractedly, "does he really take me to be innocent?" "What am I driving at?
We called Tchebarov, flung him ten roubles and got the I O U back from him, and here I have the honour of presenting it to you. She trusts your word now. Here, take it, you see I have torn it." Razumihin put the note on the table. Raskolnikov looked at him and turned to the wall without uttering a word. Even Razumihin felt a twinge.
Raskolnikov had unwarily fixed a very long and direct look on him, so that he felt positively affronted. "What do you want?" he shouted, apparently astonished that such a ragged fellow was not annihilated by the majesty of his glance. "I was summoned... by a notice..." Raskolnikov faltered.
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